The Living Dead
by June Smith
Summary: Eric's cursed- with a twist.  An alternate version of Dead to the World.
1. The Switch

A/N: This is an alternate version of _Dead to the World_, taking off after Sookie leaves Merlotte's New Year's celebration... just about the time when she would have picked up a certain someone. Everything belongs to Charlaine Harris. Thanks for reading.

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><p>The new year was only three hours old, but most revelers had already stumbled home, leaving the roads empty between Merlotte's and my house.<p>

I rolled down my window. The wind on my face felt almost as nice as the silence in my head. After a night of blocking out giddy, drunk, New Year's Eve thoughts, I felt exhausted, almost as if I'd worked a double shift.

I hit the gas as I passed Bill Compton's house. Bill was my ex. He was also in Peru, which was just as well because we were over with a capital O. I had cried myself dry over him and that was the end of it. Or, at least, I wished it were the end. I wanted to flip a switch and turn off my unwanted feelings.

Bill had been my first. My only, really. I still rolled over in bed some nights, expecting to find him beside me. It happened less and less, which should have made me feel good.

My heart hadn't caught up to my head where the two of us were concerned.

I missed the quiet almost as much as the intimacy. Bill was an attractive man, made even more so because I couldn't hear his thoughts. It had felt like a god-given gift when I'd realized that I didn't have to work to block him out. With him, I could relax. He'd made me feel safe.

Until he didn't.

As I turned into my driveway, my New Year's resolution echoed in my ears:

_Stay out of trouble._

An upside of cutting Bill out of my life was that I'd be seeing fewer vampires. Some bloodsuckers were okay, but most were terrifying, and none would think twice about sacrificing me to their twisty plans. It had been nice talking to Bill without hearing his reply in my head, but giving that up was a small price to pay to avoid a beating. I'd spent 25 years alone in a sea of thoughts; I could slog through the next 50. If I stuck around Bill and his friends, I'd be lucky to make it 5 months.

I liked my limbs and health, thank you very much. I planned to keep them.

So that was my resolution. No trouble. No vampires.

Happy New Year.

As my car purred across my new driveway, I noticed a white figure hunched on my front porch. Anywhere else it might have been a lost reveler, but my house was way out of town on parish roads. Nobody showed up by accident.

A late night visitor could only mean one thing.

Trouble.

I put my car in reverse. I didn't need to think twice. I'd come back after sunup, when I could be sure that whomever was waiting wouldn't drain me dry.

As I stepped on the gas, I noticed a gaping hole in my escape plan. My best friend Tara was at her boyfriend's, my brother Jason never spent ordinary nights by himself, let alone New Year's, and I'd returned Bill's keys weeks ago. Even if I could have gotten inside Bill's house, the thought of spending New Year's alone at my ex-boyfriend's was too terrible to contemplate.

I had nowhere to go.

I stopped the car.

I was tired. I'd been on my feet all night. All I wanted was to take a hot shower and climb in my own bed.

As I sat—sort of weighing my options, but mostly feeling sorry for myself—the figure lifted its head. I had been spotted.

Well, now I couldn't hide.

It was probably a blessing. If my guest was desperate enough to wait on my porch at three am, he or she likely wouldn't leave even if I drove away. I'd have to deal with him sooner or later. It might as well be now. I sighed and shut off my car. If my visitor had wanted to attack me, chances were that I would already be dead. How's that for a silver lining?

Just in case, I grabbed my cell and thumbed down to Sam's number. A month ago, Bill would have been my 9-1-1 of choice, but I didn't know if he got phone service in Peru. Plus, I didn't want to talk to him.

I kept my thumb on the call button as I got out of the car. I hoped Sam was still up. I hated to wake him, but I had no interest in being attacked without alerting backup.

"Hello?" I called as I started towards the porch. My visitor didn't respond, go figure. My heart was racing so fast, I could hear it. I eyed the bushes in front of my house for rustling or movement—telltale signs of anything that might pounce. They were still. For some reason, it made me worry more.

When I was about ten feet away from the porch, the figure stood up.

It was Eric.

I was so relieved, I let out a mother of a sigh. "Thank god." He didn't say anything. "Why didn't you call? You scared the life out of me."

He stared at me. The silence stretched until finally he said, "Sorry," as if remembering how to speak. His voice sounded hoarse—off somehow. I couldn't put my finger on why.

"What are you doing here?" I was willing to bet tonight's tips Eric hadn't dropped by to wish me Happy New Year.

He looked upset. I don't know how else to put it. His brow was creased and he seemed a few sizes smaller, almost as if he'd drawn in on himself. "Sookie—" he began, then stopped.

I crossed my arms. It was one thing to show up at my house uninvited. It was another to do it at three am after I'd been on my feet all night. "Get to the point."

He swallowed. "Can I have a drink?"

It had been a while since I'd had any vampire visitors and I was almost certain I was out of True Blood. It was too expensive to buy on a regular basis. When I'd been dating Bill and entertaining vampires from time to time, I'd stocked it. My choice had been between offering vampires bottled blood or giving them a taste of yummy old me, which hadn't been a choice at all. Needless to say, I hoped I had leftover True Blood on hand. I had zero interest in fending off any attempts by Eric to sample some on-tap Sookie.

I had to pass Eric to reach the front door. As I brushed by him, I fought the urge to turn up my coat collar. I figured it would be rude, but I also knew how loud my heart had been thudding. If I'd heard it, Eric definitely had. I felt his eyes on me as I fumbled for my keys. It made me shiver and not in a good way.

I didn't think Eric would attack me. We were almost friends. But, that being said, I didn't know how much an almost friendship would count if he were starving or otherwise in a pinch.

I wasn't interested in finding out.

I snuck a glance at him. He seemed even paler than usual. He caught me staring and glared, a sign of life that reminded me of the Eric I knew.

I didn't want to deal with vampire trouble right now (or ever), but something was obviously up. Eric could be a headache, but he also wouldn't bother me without a good reason—well, a good reason from his perspective. Which didn't always align with mine.

What if he were in real trouble?

Then I needed to get as far away from him as possible. The last time I'd been roped into Eric's business, I'd almost gotten killed. Same story the time before that. And before that, too. It was only three hours into the New Year—far too early to break my resolution.

I hesitated, hand on the doorknob.

For some reason, I thought of Gran. What would she think of me having a vampire on my front stoop? A vampire who probably needed help.

What kind of Christian would I be if I turned him away?

"I might have True Blood in the fridge." I said, as I unlocked the door, already regretting my decision. When Eric didn't move, I remembered that I'd rescinded his invitation the last time he had visited. "Come—"

'Inside' died on my tongue as he pushed past me, into my home.

"Eric?" He kept walking. "Eric." He disappeared around a corner.

I tailed him into the kitchen. He had opened a cabinet and was studying my glassware. "What are you doing?"

He ignored me, took down a glass and turned on the faucet. He filled the glass. Put it on the counter. Stared at it. I was sure he had lost his mind.

"Eric?"

The sound of my voice knocked him out of whatever weird dream state he'd sunk into. He glanced over his shoulder. "You want anything?"

"No." I stared at his glass. The top line of water quivered. I felt as if I were teetering on the verge of something big.

I yanked the fridge open and stuck my head inside so I wouldn't have to stare at Eric's back. Or think. "I'm out of True Blood. It's New Year's so the liquor store might be open. If you want to check, you can take my—"

I never got to say 'car' because when I closed the fridge, Eric was lowering the empty water glass from his lips. He gave me a look—like I was doing something wrong by staring—and then stuck his glass under the faucet again. Which conveniently meant he could turn his back on me.

"What's going on?" I almost didn't want to know.

This time I watched as Eric drained the glass. He put in on the counter, wiped his mouth and looked at me. Finally. "I think I need a place to stay."

"How long?" I asked, as any sensible person would. I tried to keep my voice even. Something wasn't right, but I had to play this carefully. Eric and I might be sort of friends, but he was a vampire first. He could tear me limb from limb if I rubbed him wrong.

"Indefinitely," he said, something no sensible person likes to hear.

"No," was so instinctive, it slipped out before I could think.

Eric sighed.

That's when I realized he was breathing.


	2. Wake Up Call

As soon as I realized what was wrong with Eric, I was inside his head.

He was trying to decide whether or not to kill me.

I fought to stay calm. Eric might not be his usual self, but he was still a big man. If he attacked, I'd come out of it badly. If I came out of it at all.

In a fight, I had one advantage.

I knew my kitchen.

I backed away from Eric and fumbled for the handle of my silverware drawer. I didn't want to bring a knife into the room in case he took it from me and used it himself, but I was even less enthused about the prospect of facing him unarmed.

Eric's thoughts were hitting me so loud and fast, I couldn't believe I hadn't heard him before. He was angry that he was at my house. He didn't know how he'd gotten here—which confused me, but he jumped to the next thought before I could straighten it out.

Eric broke it down for himself. Most of the time I was an asset, but today, I was a liability. News of what had happened to him couldn't reach other vampires. He had to scare me silent, and he should, very probably, make me silent.

I caught a flash of red in Eric's head—blood on sheets. It was majorly gross. I tried to keep a poker face, but I wasn't nearly as good at it as he was. The sheets were on a bed; a really unlucky woman lay on top of the covers. With a chill, I realized that she was me.

Jackson. After I'd been staked.

Eric thought about kissing me and I tried not to squirm at the weird refraction of my own memories. There wasn't nearly as much blood the way I remembered it.

It didn't feel the least bit sexy this time around.

Eric disagreed. He glanced my breasts. Hoped he only needed to frighten me. If he had to take it further, he would wait until I went to sleep. No struggle. Easy. He thought about where he might hide a body. Wondered if I had power tools.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to call the police. I wanted to rescind his invitation, even though I was willing to bet that rule had stopped applying to him the moment his pulse restarted.

This was hell.

Eric was loud. A broadcaster.

He was also staring right at me.

When I saw the look on his face, I knew he knew I'd been reading his mind. Plus, I heard it in his head.

Why did these things always happen to me?

"I rescind your invitation," I tried, for old times' sake.

"Sorry, Sookie." Even his fake apology sounded like a threat.

So the ever-useful invite rule was void. I'd called it, but I didn't feel particularly proud of my powers of deduction. I would have rather been wrong.

"What's in the drawer?" Eric said. I didn't understand what he was talking about until I looked down and realized that I was gripping the handle of the silverware drawer, white-knuckled.

"Cutlery," I dodged. I'd be a fool to tell Eric I was looking for a knife.

He filled in the blank. "Sharp cutlery?" His tone was so mild, he might as well have been asking about the weather, but I caught his meaning anyway. _Don't even think about it._

This was the problem when you hung around vampires. I wouldn't say that Eric and I were friends, but we were at least friendly acquaintances, and here he was, threatening me as quickly as someone else might have said hello. He was even prepared to kill me so that I didn't blab his secret to other vamps.

Then, it hit me. I had a bargaining chip.

Eric wanted to keep his condition secret. He was willing to kill me to do it. But if he got rid of me and hid himself, he wouldn't just be avoiding other vampires, he'd be cutting himself off from the world. Eric wouldn't be able to go to the Grabbit Kwik, let alone do whatever he had to do to fix his situation.

If Eric wanted to go into hiding, he needed an errand boy. Or girl, as the case may be.

I didn't want the job. But I did want to stay alive.

Allowing myself to get sucked into Eric's business would be profoundly stupid. But since he was already in my kitchen, I didn't think I had a choice. Well, technically, I had a _choice_, but it wasn't a real one— I could help out my not-so-friendly neighborhood vamp or start pushing daisies.

Plus, Eric needed me. He didn't know many humans. Without glamour, he could rely on even fewer.

I took a deep breath and stepped off the edge. "If you kill me, I can't help you."

Eric just stared at me.

"Say you do murder me and hole up in my home," I said, because that's what he'd been thinking behind the poker face, "how are you going to get food? Conduct business? You go outside, someone will see you. You can bet it will get back to a vampire."

I didn't know if it was wise to let Eric know straight out that I'd been inside his head, but I didn't have the energy to be coy. I wasn't telling him anything he didn't already suspect.

Kind of knowing and having it confirmed are two very separate things. Eric was so angry, he was having trouble finding the words he wanted. He was thinking about me reading his thoughts and how much he hated it.

Join the club, buddy.

"I'm clear?" he finally said, with distaste.

"Clear enough."

Let him try that on for size.

Eric didn't know what to make of it. His face was still, but I picked up on a wave of extreme discomfort. Even panic.

"You can't glamour someone to help you," I continued. In fact, it was likely that Eric himself could now be glamored. It seemed too cruel to say out loud, but it didn't really matter, because he reached the same conclusion on his own.

He needed me. I didn't like it any more than he did. I probably liked it less than he did.

I laid out my terms. "Don't kill me, don't threaten me, and I'll help you." Within reason.

He studied me, maybe sizing me up, and said, "I'll pay you $20,000."

I'd been listening to his thoughts closely, but I hadn't heard that coming. "What?" The amount seemed out of proportion. It was a little less than what I had made last year.

"You help me. When I'm back to myself you see the money."

Gran didn't raise me to turn down an earning opportunity, but the last thing I wanted to do was indebt myself to Eric.

What I hoped to get of our bargain first and foremost was for Eric not to kill me. For my part, I'd fix him a couple meals, let him use my shower, maybe make a few phone calls, but I couldn't let myself be put in extreme danger and I wouldn't go out on a limb for him. The potential consequences were too great.

If Eric were paying me, he'd expect me to help him. Like, really help him. And I'd feel obligated to do it. Especially for $20,000. Jesus. I wouldn't even let myself think about how much that money could help with my property taxes. I couldn't believe Eric had that kind of cash to throw around.

If I took the $20,000, I wouldn't be Eric's benefactor. I'd be his employee. I'd owe him. Which is exactly why he'd suggested it in the first place.

"Forget the money."

"No money, no deal," he said, and my heart sank. "It's how I know you won't stake me in my sleep." Then he smiled, which creeped me out.

I was terrified to say no, but I didn't know what else to do. "Eric, you can stay for one night. Tomorrow, I'll call Pam, make sure she had nothing to do with this, then the two of you—"

He cut me off. "No vampires."

I waited for him to say more, but of course he didn't elaborate. "Eric, this is dangerous for me."

"25,000."

It wasn't about the money. "No."

"Thirty."

That's when I realized how desperate he was. He was ready to go to 35. He didn't have a ceiling.

He truly had nowhere else to go.

I was so mad. I couldn't make myself tell him, _Yes, you can stay_, but I knew right then that there was no way I could turn him loose and live with myself.

I also knew I was a fool because he would have never done the same for me.

What the hell was I getting myself into?

I was too steamed to talk to him, so I made a beeline to the sink and rinsed the glass he'd used to get water. That was the extent of my available chores and I didn't want to think.

"Sit down," I told him, because he was hovering near my shoulder and his shadow was creeping me out.

He obeyed.

"I will help you," I said. "I don't know if you can stay here. I haven't decided."

"I will pay you and I will stay here," he said, as if he were Sheriff of my home.

Yeah, right.

I grabbed a piece of paper off the refrigerator. It was a printout calendar listing my work hours at Merlotte's. I turned it over. "I want an agreement in writing."

After staring me down for a second, Eric nodded. I found a pen in the junk drawer and wrote out my terms.

_I will not kill, harm, or threaten Sookie Stackhouse._ Then I drew a line for Eric's signature.

Eric read what I had written, took my pen and added, _I will not speak about X. Will not contact vampires without permission. Will obey all reasonable requests. Upon successful competition, will receive $30,000._

"X is me," he said. I figured that he didn't want to commit his name to paper. He made a line for my signature. Then he handed me the pen. I crossed out _obey_ and subbed in _help with_, then replaced _reasonable requests _with _requests_ _that both parties agree are reasonable._

"You sign first," I told Eric.

He did. It was illegible. He handed me the pen. I added my best John Hancock.

Then, Eric took the pen from me and jammed the point into his palm.

I screamed, more at his sudden movement than the severity of his wound. Blood welled to the top of his cut.

"It's a contract," he said, as if I were stupid, and daubed blood next to his signature. He looked at me, expectant.

"I'm not doing that," I said.

He shrugged. "Fine. Then it's not binding."

"You aren't serious."

He smiled at me, wide, showing all his teeth. It looked truly weird, until I realized that the smile was designed to show off his fangs—fangs he no longer had.

Thousand-year habits didn't die easy. You could take the vampire out of the man, but the man was still capable of some very nasty things.

From what I knew of him, Eric kept to the letter of his word once he gave it. While I'd never trust him absolutely, I'd feel a lot better with a document pledging good behavior in my back pocket.

Even so, I wasn't about the start jabbing pens in myself. Especially pens dripping with Eric's blood.

I walked over to the silverware drawer, found a steak knife and sliced my thumb. It stung. Eric watched approvingly as I pressed it next to my name, leaving a little red mark.

"We are agreed," he said.

I put the knife in the sink. I didn't want to leave it anywhere near Eric. "I guess we are." I sunk into the chair across from him. I felt worse. I couldn't believe what I'd gotten myself into.

Three hours ago, I'd made the New Year's resolution to stay out of trouble. So much for that. Maybe next year I should resolve to get in as much trouble as possible. See if it worked any better.

Eric looked at me, but he didn't seem to have much to say. I had a ton of questions for him, but I wasn't sure that I had energy to deal with the answers tonight.

What would Gran have done to fill the silence? Now that Eric was an official houseguest—sort of—she would be spinning in her grave if I didn't at least go through the motions of playing hostess. "Do you want anything to eat?"

"Your food?" Eric said, with distaste, as if the concept were rarely mentioned in polite company.

I tried not to get offended and failed spectacularly. I nodded at the cut on his hand, which hadn't stopped bleeding. "Or you could try that and see how you like it."

Eric glared.

As I eyed the cut, I realized that he'd really gouged himself. "You need a Band-Aid."

He growled at me. It was profoundly weird. But I got the message. _Back off._

And I did, gladly. I didn't have the emotional energy to hold his hand through his identity crisis. I'd make him some eggs tomorrow when he got too hungry to see straight. If his hand got infected, I'd pour peroxide on it. Basically, I'd be his mother. I was contractually obligated. I would have laughed if the whole situation weren't so horrible.

Other than the frown on his face, Eric didn't seem that different from normal. He did look tired. And his chest was rising and falling.

It's easy to forget that a vampire is just a walking corpse. Most seem as animated as you or me. In all the time I'd spent with Eric, I'd never noticed that he didn't breathe. Now, all I could do was watch as his chest went up, then down. It was the most ordinary thing in the world. And it looked strange on him.

What had happened to Eric? Well, I knew _what_. The question was really how. And why.

"I'm guessing this wasn't intentional," I said

The side of his mouth jerked upwards. Almost a smile. "No."

I waited for him to elaborate.

He didn't, go figure, so I pressed. "What happened?"

His eyes narrowed. "You don't already know?" he said, with resentment and maybe a little spite.

I was taken aback. I could understand that Eric didn't like me reading his mind, but that was no excuse for nastiness. Eric was thinking about the wood grain on my kitchen table, so I assumed he was trying to keep me out. Fine. Let him waste his energy. I usually try to stay out of other people's heads, but Eric had lost that right. As disturbing as his thoughts were, I would keep eavesdropping until I was sure he wasn't plotting to kill me. I didn't even feel guilty about it.

Of course I didn't say any of this to Eric, who was still pretending to be entranced by my table and probably boring himself stiff.

"I'm going to bed." I'd had enough for one night. For one lifetime, come to think of it. "Are you tired?"

"No," he said.

I showed him to his room anyway. I'd decided to put him in my old bedroom. The twin bed was probably too short for him, but I was so fed up, I found it hard to feel sorry about his soon-to-be cramped legs.

"There's a vampire hole in the closet," I told him. "In case anything happens." As much as I'd love to wake up tomorrow morning to find Eric gone, I didn't want him to be a pile of ash.

He nodded, seemingly uncomfortable at the reference to his new condition. I fetched him a towel and an old plaid blanket of Gran's in case he got cold. I showed him how to work the shower.

Then I went to bed.

I locked my door. I had put our contract in the top drawer of my nightstand, but I wasn't taking any chances.

I tossed and turned. A plot to murder you in your bed will do that. I must have fallen asleep at some point, but before I'd even had half a dream, I opened my eyes. Sunlight was trickling through my window and my alarm clock blinked 9:43 am.

Happy morning.

Eric hadn't killed me in my sleep. Yippee.

I struggled into a robe and cut across the hall to my old bedroom, where I'd deposited Eric the night before. I peeked inside. The bed was rumpled.

But empty.

Maybe last night had been a dream.

I would be so lucky.

I opened the closet, where Bill had built his hidey-hole. My shoes were in place, so I knew it was a fool's errand even as I popped the trap door and looked inside my home's single vampire-approved accommodation.

The light-tight nook was empty.

Eric was nowhere to be found.

What kind of lovely world would I live in if I had hallucinated the events of last night? Admittedly, I would have mental health issues, but that was arguably safer than being the sole caretaker of a testy ex-vampire with a target on his back.

Even if last night hadn't been a dream—if Eric had indeed discovered the secret of life after death and then, for whatever obscure reason, left my house sometime after I'd gone to sleep, it still meant that he was out of my hair, which was a cause for celebration.

Instead, I just felt worried.

I didn't want Eric here, per say, but I didn't want him dead either.

It was easy to forget that I sort of liked Eric. He could be okay and maybe even fun when he wasn't forcing me to work for him, putting my life in danger, or plotting to kill me. Which was maybe about 5% of the total time we had ever spent together.

I looked in the empty vampire hole. I eyed the empty bed.

I wished that Eric had left a note.

Since I couldn't find Eric standing still, I decided to start my day. I put coffee on, jumped in the shower, and emerged to find my whole house smelling like French roast. My life might be in shambles. Vampires were turning into people. But at least I had a fresh pot. I poured myself a steaming cup and went to enjoy it on the porch.

Simple pleasures.

Or not. Because the porch is where I found Eric.

He was sprawled in Gran's favorite rocking chair, asleep. He'd thrown the plaid blanket I'd given him over his face. Blocking out the light. I wondered if he'd gone outside to watch the sun rise. Not that it was any of my business.

His hand lay in a ray of direct sunlight. His skin wasn't smoking. His cut had scabbed.

So last night hadn't been a dream.

I'd sort of known, but disappointment hit me hard anyway. I was glad Eric wasn't finally dead, but that's where the good feelings ended.

Now that the reality of the situation was inescapable, I felt flat-out depressed. I ran through all the ways I could get Eric out of my home without selling him down the river. I wanted to ask Ginger to take him, but knew I couldn't, because it wouldn't end well for either her or Eric. I thought about lending him my car and telling him to drive until he ran out of gas, but that would leave me without a vehicle and wouldn't get Eric much of anywhere. I'm ashamed to admit that part of me wanted to lock Eric outside and call the police.

Instead, I forced myself to leave the front door open as I went back inside. I couldn't stay on the porch. Eric might wake up and I was too upset to choose my words wisely.

By the time I reached my kitchen table, I felt ashamed.

Eric had no one. He was on my turf. I had to help him, not because of the stupid contract, but because it was the right thing to do. I knew it, but all I wanted was to do was kick him out before he got me killed.

I wished I were a better Christian.

For some reason, reflecting on Lord made me think of an alternative savior.

Pam.

I really hoped Pam would take Eric.

Eric had rejected the idea last night, but to me, it seemed like a perfect solution. There were only two minor problems. First, Pam might have played a role in whatever had happened to Eric. I didn't think it was likely, but it was possible. I couldn't turn him over to her without determining that she was still loyal.

Problem two was that I'd promised Eric I wouldn't contact any vampires.

It was daytime. I could call Fangtasia without—technically—contacting a vamp. I would still be abiding by the letter of my contract with Eric. If I left a cryptic message with Ginger and Pam called me back tonight to find out what I'd meant, all the better. Since Pam would reach out to me, I wouldn't—technically—be breaking my promise to Eric. When I had Pam on the phone, I could try to determine if she was still loyal to him. If everything seemed on the up-and-up, maybe I could drop some hints about her swinging by my house. When Eric saw Pam, I was sure he'd realize that he'd much rather stay with her than me.

Problem solved. Admittedly, there were a lot of "ifs" between me dialing Fangtasia and Pam coming to pick up Eric. But I'd take uncertainty over sitting around any day.

It might not be particularly good plan, but it was mine and, most importantly, it was all I could come up with.

I picked up the phone.

I felt guilty going behind Eric's back and nervous about involving another vamp, but if I was going to make Eric Pam's problem, I needed to get the ball rolling before Mr. Large and In Charge woke up.

I dialed Fangtasia before I could talk myself out of it. I seemed to have memorized the number. I wondered when that had happened, then decided not to worry about it.

The phone rang once, twice, and so on. For the first time in my life, I was disappointed when Ginger didn't answer.

My call clicked over to voicemail. It was Pam, sounding bored. "Fangtasia. The bar with a bite."

The machine beeped before I'd decided what to say. I didn't know what was safe to commit to a recording. Nothing about Eric. I probably should have thought this out a little better. "Ginger? Pick up if you're there—"

A click. Someone had answered. The line was silent, except for the sound of breathing.

"Ginger?" I asked.

"Sookie."

I almost dropped the phone.

"Good morning," said Pam, for the first time in over a century.


	3. Breaking and Entering

_Thanks for reading, for the reviews, and apologies for the delay. Everything belongs to Charlaine Harris._

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><p>"Good morning," Pam said, for the first time in over a century.<p>

"Pam?" Her name I could manage. Otherwise, my brain was shooting blanks. All I could do was ask the obvious. "Are you alive?"

"Technically."

"What happened?"

Dead quiet. I listened to Pam breathe. I could only classify the silence as awkward. "I need your help," she said, finally.

Uh oh. "Help with what?"

"Meet me at Fangtasia," Pam said, instead of answering my question. Then, she hung up.

I stared at the phone. Commands and cryptic non-answers. What else did I expect from a vampire?

An ex-vampire.

My head hurt.

It was a small blessing that Eric was still asleep, because I couldn't even begin to puzzle out how I should break the news about Pam.

Eric was going to have a cow. I was certain that he had no idea Pam was alive. Why would he have insisted on staying with me if he thought he had anywhere else to go?

Best-case scenario: I told Eric about Pam, they helped each other, and I washed my hands of them. Eric would stay in some vampire safe house and I'd be free to go about my life.

On the other hand, the "best-case scenario" could easily turn into a nightmare. Eric didn't want his secret getting out, so if he moved out and I thus outlived my usefulness, I'd switch from an asset to a loose end in need of tying, quicker than you could say Eric, in the kitchen, with the rope. For maybe the first time in my life, I wished I could be glamoured. There were some things I just didn't need to know.

Once I started thinking of downsides to telling Eric about Pam, it was a slippery slope.

What if Eric thought I was lying? What if he attacked me? If Pam had been a vampire, reaching out to her would have constituted a breach of our contract. Since she was alive, I hadn't violated our agreement—technically. But Eric was on edge. I didn't know how much weight he would place on technicalities.

I imagined walking to the porch, waking Eric up, and saying, "Pam is alive." I pictured him roaring and ripping my head off.

Okay. That was the worst-case scenario.

Actually—no. Now that I was on this happy train of thought, the worst-case scenario was Eric killing me, then Jason dropping by while Eric was disposing of my remains. The probable outcome was too frightening to dwell on. Eric had hesitated to attack me last night, but Jason would receive no such consideration.

I just didn't want to tell Eric about Pam. Too many things could go wrong and it rarely ended well for me.

Pam, on the other hand, had a century's worth of experience breaking bad news to Eric. There was a good chance he would take it better from her than me. Plus, it was her secret, which made it her responsibility.

If I wanted Pam to spill the beans, I'd have to set up a play date for the two of them. I had to bring Eric to Pam or vice versa.

I ruled out the Eric to Pam option. I couldn't spend an hour trapped in the car with him, enjoying a one-way connection to his thoughts. An over-the-phone reveal would save me a trip, but if Eric reacted badly, I'd still be home alone with him and he could take out his anger however he liked.

The only palatable alternative was inviting Pam to my house. I wasn't exactly jumping for joy at the prospect of having another vampire in my home and I didn't know how much protection she would actually afford, but I felt better having a buffer—any buffer—between Eric and myself.

After Pam and Eric came out of the coffin to each other, there was the whole separate issue of how or why this happened in the first place.

Pam's news made me think that Eric and his people were being targeted specifically. Either that, or there was something in the water in Shreveport. Eric had enemies, but I couldn't think of a particular reason why Eric and Pam alone, out of all the vampires in the universe, would suddenly wake up with a pulse. If they were alive, where did it end?

A disconcerting thought popped into my head.

Could all vampires—everywhere—have turned human?

If the world's undead had come to life, it was going to make headlines.

I raced into the living room, flipped on the television, and thumbed to the closest news channel.

ABC was showing the Rose Bowl parade. NBC, recaps of New Year's Eve celebrations around the world. On FOX, the President had done something the anchors agreed with, big surprise.

I flicked off the television.

So, the vampire apocalypse hadn't happened.

That was a good thing. Well, good for the world, but bad for Eric, and maybe bad for me, because if this illness or curse or whatever it was hadn't hit vampires generally, someone was targeting Eric and Pam in particular. And if they were targets, I could easily stumble into the crosshairs myself.

What had my New Year's resolution been?

Stay out of trouble.

I looked at the TV clock. 10:03 am.

I hadn't even lasted a half-day.

"Sookie."

Speak of the devil.

I turned around. Eric was standing in my front hallway, barefoot, Gran's blanket draped around his very broad shoulders. He was blinking in the morning sunlight, but he hadn't been incinerated by it. Yet.

"Hi," I said.

I didn't hear Eric's reply, because just like that, I was inside his head. It was as if someone had flipped a switch, tuning me to the all-Eric, all the time channel. He was enumerating various aches and pains—cricked neck, cramped leg, the sunlight hurt his eyes, and so on. As far as Eric went, it was G-rated, but it was still loud enough to drown out my own thoughts. I managed to dial him down to a dull buzz, like a radio channel just out of range.

When I came back to myself, Eric was watching me. His expression reminded me of the looks I sometimes got from Merlotte's patrons. "Are you sick?"

"No." But I was mad—mad I couldn't keep Eric out of my head and mad that he was looking at me like I was crazy.

I didn't want to deal with Eric and I needed him to shut up about the sun, so I walked to the window and drew the curtains, even though the winter light seemed mild to my eyes. The living room was immediately dimmer, but I could still see Eric's face go blank.

I realized my mistake. He hadn't said anything about sunlight. Out loud.

Eric started thinking in pictures. Rocky beaches I didn't recognize. I figured that he was trying to keep me out.

We had been together a minute and I'd already entered dangerous territory. An hour and I'd be wiped out. In a day, I'd be dead, either from exhaustion or less natural causes.

I couldn't keep on, just the two of us. I needed backup.

"I'm going out," I said.

Pam had asked for my help. As it turned out, I needed hers. She had to take Eric off my hands. There had to be some kind of safe house where he could hide.

I hoped I wasn't making a giant mistake turning to Pam. After all, I would be able to read her thoughts too. But anything would be better than this. If I stayed with Eric alone, I'd go crazy. And that was only if he didn't kill me first.

I left the living room. Eric didn't try to stop me.

He was still picturing those stupid beaches.

He thought about a giant white cliff. I thought about pushing him off of it.

I regretted it, immediately.

* * *

><p>I have never gotten dressed so quickly in my life. I threw on jeans, ran a comb through my hair, checked my word-of-the-day, and was halfway down the stairs before my growling stomach reminded me that I hadn't eaten breakfast.<p>

And neither had Eric.

Since Eric had turned down food last night, my guess was that he hadn't eaten anything since he'd crossed over.

"For goodness sake," I said.

Eric was a big boy. He understood how to use a microwave for True Blood, so in my book, that meant he could fix his own lunch.

As for me, I wanted to get out of the house as quickly as possible, so I decided to treat myself to an Egg McMuffin on the way to Fangtasia. It was New Year's, after all—supposedly a day for celebration.

I walked to the front door and stopped. I stared at the doorknob. I wanted to leave, but I couldn't make myself go. I felt guilty.

Gran would have had a conniption if she knew that I was letting a visitor go hungry under my roof. In this case, I was ready to forgo hospitality. Eric wasn't a guest in the traditional sense and I didn't relish the prospect of having another tense conversation with him.

Then, I heard the shower in my guest bathroom switch on.

Eric was occupied.

If I made a sandwich while Eric was showering, I could take half for myself and leave the rest for him, thereby assuaging my guilt and pinching my pennies.

Best of all, the two of us wouldn't have to see each other.

I said goodbye to the Egg McMuffin. I ran for the kitchen. I took bread out of the cupboard and found leftover meatloaf in the fridge. In the junk drawer, I located a handful of single-serving ketchup packets left over from my last McDonald's meal.

I started assembling the sandwich, but within seconds, I heard the water shut off. Eric was a speed showerer. Great. Of course he was. Why should I expect to get lucky for one second of one day I spent under the same roof with him?

It was about ten seconds before I heard him and when I say hear, I don't mean with my ears. Eric didn't say anything, but he didn't need to. I knew he was there. He knew I knew he was there.

I turned around.

Eric was still barefoot, but he had lost his shirt—lost everything, in fact—and was standing in my front hall wearing nothing but a towel. I tried to concentrate on the fact that he was dripping all over my hardwood floor and not his chest, which was at eyelevel.

He looked even better by daylight.

I was glad he couldn't read my mind.

"I thought you left," he said.

Hello to you too. "On my way out." I gestured at the half-completed sandwich. "You hungry?"

A normal person would have said something like,_ Thank you for fixing me breakfast_ or _I'm sorry, I've eaten_. Eric's silence—not to mention fact that his face went into lockdown when all I did was ask a simple question—made it easy to remember why I'd couldn't let myself ogle. He was a dangerous man in a beautiful package.

Speaking of packages, I squirted one of the single-serving ketchups on top of the meatloaf. "Red," I said. "You'll like it."

Eric looked grim. "You think this is funny."

The opposite. But if I didn't laugh, I'd cry. "If you don't want it, put it in the fridge so it doesn't go to waste." When he didn't say anything, I tried to feel sympathetic, not exasperated. "You can try True Blood, but I don't think it's going to do much for you."

"I will see you later," he said, and left the kitchen.

I stared after him, then gave up, and got out the carving knife.

I attacked the sandwich. I sliced it into halves, then quarters. I took half for myself and put the rest in the fridge. I cleaned the knife, wiped it, and put it away so Eric wouldn't get any ideas.

I knew the crossover had been traumatic for Eric, but he had nothing to gain by fasting. If he kept this up, he was going to make himself sick. But I couldn't force him to eat, nor did I want to try. I imagined telling Eric that I would _hold his nose and stuff it_—Grandpa Mitchell's favorite threat for Jason and me when we left food on our plates as kids.

Yeah, that would go over well.

If Eric wanted to starve himself, he was an adult and that was his prerogative.

Still, I hated to see him go hungry. I returned to the cupboard and sorted through various cans until I found the one I was looking for.

Tomato soup.

At least it would look familiar to him.

I left the soup on the counter next to the can opener and went to find Pam.

* * *

><p>I rolled down the windows and put the radio on full blast, but even Shania couldn't cure my blues. I only knew of one man who could turn the dead back to life, but I was willing to bet that Jesus didn't have anything to do with what had happened to Eric.<p>

Speaking of Eric, I had an obligation to do what I could to avert the few potential disasters I had any control over. I dug my phone out of my purse and thumbed in a number. The call rang once, twice, three times— and just when I was sure that Jason wasn't going to pick up, he did.

"Sook?' His voice sounded sleep-addled. I'd woken him up. I checked the clock. It was getting on 11 am. If I knew my brother, he'd been partying into the wee hours of the morning and then some. I felt bad for bothering him this early, but it couldn't be helped.

"Happy New Year, Jason," I said. "Look, I know you said you'd stop by later, but I'm coming to you."

"Sookie, not a good idea." Jason's protest confirmed the obvious. He had a woman over. I thought back to the little shifter he'd been with at Merlotte's last night. I wondered if Jason had any idea what he had gotten himself into. If the past was any indication—the answer was defianetly no.

For expediency's sake, I sunk to bribery. "I'll cook you something. We'll eat on your porch. The weather's so nice," I said, which wasn't entirely a lie. While no self-respecting southerner can call 55 degrees 'nice,' it was on the mild side for January.

"Sookie—" Jason started.

"Okay, sounds great. I'll see you around three," I said and hung up.

I felt guilty for strong-arming Jason, but I'd rather be bossy than have him stop by my house and surprise Eric while I was out. Jason wasn't going to end up buried under Gran's bougainvillea on my watch.

I felt slightly better having solved one problem and was even able to sing along with the radio as I zoomed towards Shreveport. But when I turned off the interstate and pulled into Fangtasia's nearly empty parking lot, my apprehension skyrocketed back to its previous levels.

The lot was deserted, but for one car.

Somebody had forgotten to pick up his red corvette.

To be fair, he'd had other things on his mind.

Fangtasia was situated in a shopping center just off of I-20. It was a perfect location for a chain restaurant and if the bar ever went out of business, the building would probably be converted into a Mickey D's or a Waffle House. Of course, the new owners would have to knock out additional windows before they started serving solid food. Fangtasia had a single window, located next to the front entrance, and it was always heavily shuddered. By design, the building was as much a bunker as a bar.

Fangtasia was located next to a giant Toys 'R' Us store (yes, really) and a handful of smaller shops. My private theory was that Eric had picked the location near Toys 'R' Us as a perverse joke, but I had no way to prove it.

The normal stores closed by 8 pm, when business at the bar started to pick up, and had thereby reached an uneasy kind of truce with Eric, basically by pretending that Fangtasia didn't exist.

Today, all the shops had their doors shuddered. Even Toys 'R' Us, usually a buzz of activity at this hour, stood silent. It was New Year's, so everything was supposed to be closed, but the emptiness still felt eerie.

I parked next to Eric's corvette. Movement inside his car caught my eye. I looked over and did a double take.

A man was sitting in the driver's seat, fiddling with the steering wheel.

I honked. It was pure reflex. It would have been smarter to drive away.

The man looked up. He was wearing a disguise—a Fangtasia baseball cap and a pair of women's sunglasses. He looked like the Unabomber. When he bared his teeth at me, I recognized him.

"Clancy?"

My heart sank. Eric, Pam, and now Clancy. Three down. How many were left?

I didn't roll down my window in case Clancy decided to attack. Mercifully, he just glowered. "She's waiting for you," he shouted through the glass. He pointed at the bar, unnecessarily. I wasn't fool enough to think that Pam would be waiting at Toys 'R' Us.

"What does she want?" I asked, more out of dumb hope than any misapprehension that Clancy would tell me what I needed to know.

I should have saved my breath, because he shrugged and turned back to whatever he'd been doing to Eric's car. By the time I had parked and was halfway to Fangtasia, I heard the engine turn over.

Clancy had been hotwiring the corvette.

Eric was going to have a conniption.

Forget Eric.

I was having a conniption. If Eric, Pam, and Clancy were now human, it stood to reason that other vampires had crossed over as well. Maybe not all vampires—which would explain the silence on the news— but some subgroup that had so far managed to keep it a secret from everyone but lucky, lucky me. Maybe someone was targeting Louisiana vampires. Or vampires allied with Eric. If so, could Bill have been affected? These days, he wasn't high on my favorite person list, but I still didn't like the thought of him waking up in Peru, with a pulse, and having nowhere to turn.

I needed answers. Pam could give them.

Whether or not she would was another story.

I knocked on Fangtasia's back door.

"Clancy?" I recognized Pam's voice.

"It's me," I said.

The door opened a crack. A blue eye blinked at me. I heard the creak of unlocking bolts.

"What's going on?" I asked, as Pam opened the door. Like Clancy, she was wearing a Fangtasia baseball cap. Unlike Clancy, she had a blossoming black eye.

Instead of answering, Pam grabbed me by the arm and yanked me inside the bar. Her grip felt like a vice. She slammed the door shut behind us, sealing out the sun. Illuminated by dim electric light, the interior of Fangtasia looked the same as it always did. Because there weren't any windows in the back part of the bar, you couldn't tell that it wasn't nighttime.

While the bar looked the same, Pam didn't. I was surprised by how young she seemed. Without that glow around the edges that all vampires have, Pam appeared less like a housewife and more like an eldest daughter. But for her black eye and grim expression, she could have been somebody's babysitter. I wondered how old she had been when Eric had turned her. Definitely younger than I was now.

Pam broke the silence. "You have Eric."

"Let go of me." I needed to buy time. Pam might look young, but she was far from naïve. I wanted her help with Eric, but it would be stupid to reveal my only bargaining chip without getting anything in return.

Pam's hand tightened around my arm. I caught a wave of anticipation from her. He thoughts didn't batter me, like Eric's, but I could get a feel for them if I reached. She was sure that I had him. The phone call had tipped her off. Why else would I call Fangtasia during the daytime?

Pam had a point.

I didn't have the energy to lie and I needed her help anyway, so I took a deep breath and dove into the deep end. "Eric showed up at my house last night. I don't know how he got there and I don't think he does either."

Pam's face was blank. It was eerie. I knew exactly where she'd learned it. "How is he?"

"He's like you."

She nodded and let go of my arm. She seemed unsurprised.

While her reaction didn't shock me, exactly, it certainly made me curious. "What happened?" I asked.

Pam was thinking about Chow and a woman with dark hair I didn't recognize.

She shrugged. "Unimportant."

I disagreed, but I didn't want to start a fight. "Look, you need to take Eric. He can come here. The two of you fix this and I'll stay out of it."

"That will be a problem," she said.

"Why?" I was almost too afraid to ask.

I could see Pam's wheels turning, calculating how much she wanted to share. Her thoughts flickered past me, too fast to read easily, but I saw Chow again and the woman with dark hair. I drew back. Listening in on Pam felt ruder than it had with Eric, mostly because I had to make a conscious effort to do it and she hadn't threatened to kill me. Yet.

"There is a dearth of vampires in Area 5," Pam finally said.

Dearth had been a word-of-the-day a few weeks ago. Normally, I'd be glad for the opportunity to use it in a sentence. "A big dearth?" I pressed. "Like, everybody?"

Pam shrugged. "Unclear."

I couldn't think of anything to say, which ended up being okay, because Pam kept talking.

"Unfortunately, that doesn't seem to be the case in the rest of state. If the Queen finds out, somebody's head will be on a platter."

I knew two things: Pam wasn't speaking figuratively and 'somebody' was Eric.

"He thinks he's the only one," I said. If Eric knew what was going on, he was hiding it well. Considering that he was proving to be incapable of hiding anything from me, I was pretty sure he had no idea. "You need to talk to him."

"I need to do a lot of things," Pam said. "You need to read a human for me. A woman."

I wasn't thrilled about the prospect, but it seemed like the least I could do under the circumstances. "Is she here?"

Pam shook her head. "We have a date for tonight."

Considering recent events, I didn't think Pam meant a date in the traditional way, but you could never tell with her.

There was a rap on the door to the outside. "Clancy," said a voice.

Pam let Clancy in. She squinted as sunlight streamed inside, slamming the door as soon as he entered. Clancy was still wearing the hat and ladies' sunglasses. I revised my earlier assessment and decided that his strange getup was more for sun protection than disguise. He was also carrying a tire iron, which I assumed he'd stolen from Eric's corvette. He looked like a cross dresser-cum-cat burglar.

"The car started," Clancy told Pam. To my surprise, he was sweating. Fifty-five degrees or not, the January morning felt nippy to me, but maybe it was warm for someone used to being a vampire. "You didn't kill her?"

I was offended that Clancy was talking like I wasn't there, but it was the least of my problems. Death threats were starting to sound disturbingly familiar.

Pam shook her head no. "She has Eric," she said. "And she'll help us."

Before I could say _hold your horses_, Pam took the tire iron out of Clancy's hand and passed it to me. "Why don't you go smash some windows?"

* * *

><p>I said "No, thank you," but as it turned out, smashing windows was exactly what I needed. Or really, smashing window, because Fangtasia only had one.<p>

Pam and Clancy had decided to stage a break-in.

"It will give us an excuse to close the bar," Pam explained before she shooed me out the door. Neither she nor Clancy wanted to brave the sunlight.

My problem was the vandalism, not the sun. Breaking and entering hadn't been on Gran's list of approved extracurricular activities, but I told myself it didn't really count as vandalism if the owners asked you to do it. Plus it was for a good cause. Sort of. It was hard to know right from wrong when I was still unclear as to what was going on.

I was a little worried that someone might see me, but the parking lot was still deserted.

But, god help me, I did it. Pam had asked me to—basically commanded me, in fact—and I'd be lying if I didn't admit that there was some small part of me deep down that wanted to hit something, just a little bit.

I swung the tire iron, heard that first crunch of broken glass, and my doubts kind of melted away. I felt particularly good imagining what Eric's face would look like if he could see me busting up his bar. After a while, I moved from angry to nostalgic— swinging the iron reminded me a little bit like being back in batting practice with my high-school softball team.

When I finished, the window was in pieces. I could see clean through into the bar where Clancy, still wearing those women's sunglasses, was cleaning out the cash register. He didn't acknowledge my presence.

I looked at the shattered window. I was feeling less blissed out now that I realized someone would have to spend a few hours repairing the damage I'd caused in seconds.

Clancy started knocking liquor bottles off the shelf behind the bar.

I sighed and returned to the employee's entrance.

While Clancy and I had been busy breaking and entering, Pam cleaned out files and other paraphernalia. She met me at the door and handed me two trash bags. One was full of papers, the other of mini-VHS tapes. "Security video," she answered, before I could ask. "For Eric. Put it in your car and come back."

I didn't appreciate being treated like a pack mule, but paperwork and videotapes seemed innocuous enough.

I should have known it wasn't going to end there. When I returned to the bar, Pam was in the process of dragging a large metal case towards the door. If Bruce Willis movies were to be believed, it was the kind of container weapons are shipped in.

"What's that?" I asked, trying to sound curious and not panicked. Unless it was full of paperwork, there was no way I was letting the case into my trunk.

"A box." Pam said.

I didn't appreciate the evasion. "What's inside?"

"Toiletries." I supposed that was her way of telling me to buzz off.

I didn't need to know the details to figure out that it was trouble. "I don't want that in my car."

"It won't fit in the corvette."

"Too bad." My Malibu was not much bigger.

"I can't leave it here."

I shrugged. "Not my problem."

"You'll have to rent a car for it," Pam said.

"I don't have to do anything." Pam was either crazy or trying to see how far she could push me.

Pam stared at me. I stared back at her.

"Fine," she said. "We'll try the corvette."

I was surprised she'd given up so easily. She must have really wanted the case off the premises.

Pam was struggling to get the case down the hallway. I might not like the box or her secrecy, but I didn't want to see her hurt herself, so I bent down to help. "The corvette's not coming to my house, right?"

"Clancy will get rid of this first, don't worry," Pam said, which didn't do much to calm my nerves.

The case was heavy. Whether it was the box itself or its contents, I couldn't be sure. By the time we reached Fangtasia's back door, Pam was breathing hard. It looked as strange on her it had on Eric. "I'm not myself today," she said, when she caught me staring at her. I couldn't tell if she meant it as a joke or not.

Pam hissed as we stepped outside into the parking lot. I wondered what was wrong, then realized it was the sun. Pam hadn't seen daylight in over a century. "Do you need a second?"

"I need an eclipse." She put her end the case on the ground so she could pull the brim of the Fangtasia hat lower on her eyes. I would have offered her my sunglasses, but I had left them at home. "Okay, move it."

I didn't appreciate the order, but I saw no point in arguing as we hustled the case towards the corvette. It took a good minute to get it there and then another few to shoulder it into the trunk, which wouldn't close. Pam and I ended up creating a makeshift sling with Eric's jumper cables, which would hopefully hold the case in place.

"This would fit a lot better in your car," Pam said.

She was relentless. It reminded me of someone else I knew. "Are you going to tell me what's inside?"

"A corpse," Pam said.

I hoped she was joking. She didn't laugh.

"Then no," I said. "It's not going in my car."

Pam shrugged, turned on her heel, and walked back towards Fangtasia.

I looked at the box. I really hoped Pam had been kidding. If the trunk popped loose of the corvette's trunk on the highway, it might cause an accident. I had been of half of a mind to transfer it to my car, but after Pam's joke or admission or whatever, I couldn't help but hesitate. I was doing enough for her. I couldn't roll over and let myself transport bodies or weapons or whatever. I pulled one of the jumper cables to test it. The box seemed secure.

We got on the road a few minutes later. Pam rode with me, while Clancy followed in the corvette. He was driving slowly, because of the box, so we lost him within a few minutes.

Pam said Clancy would drop off the box wherever it needed to go, then meet us at my house. I wasn't too hot on the prospect of Clancy coming to my home or the fact that I'd be outnumbered 3-to-1 by ex-vampires once he got there, but I couldn't think of a good excuse to keep him away, especially since Eric and Pam were clearly allowed inside. What was I going to say to Clancy? You can't come over because I don't like you? There was enough ill will between us without me creating more.

"How are you feeling?" I asked Pam, when we were safely on the interstate, headed towards Bon Temps. Despite the headaches she was causing me, I was embarrassed it had taken me this long to think to ask. Out of all of the vampires I knew, Pam was the closest I had to a friend.

Pam shrugged. She had pulled the brim of her Fangtasia cap low across her eyes and put down the passenger sun shield. She looked miserable.

"What happened to your eye?" It was swollen and had already begun to turn purple.

"Fight," she said, as if I couldn't have figured it out for myself.

I wanted to ask whom she had been fighting, but figured that it wasn't any of my business.

Pam might be miserly with information, but compared to Eric, she was a chatty Cathy. That being said, I was sure that as soon as she saw Eric, she'd defer to him. I'd have my best bet squeezing details from her while she was alone. The drive was an opportunity. "How do you know its just local vamps who have— " I paused, searching for the right word to describe their coming back to life.

"Regressed?" Pam supplied.

"Um, okay." I felt resigned. I had been thinking something more like 'switched' or 'turned,' but didn't want to argue.

Pam glanced at me from under her hat. I could tell she was deciding how much to reveal.

"I spoke with the others last night," she finally said. "We check in, usually. I called. They answered. Everything was normal."

"Did you tell them the truth?"

"No." Pam looked at me like I was stupid.

"They could have been lying," I said. "After all, you lied to them."

Pam shrugged. I caught a flash of something in her thoughts—Chow and Eric, speaking to the dark-haired woman I didn't recognize. Then, a whorl of movement. Blood.

Something had set this off.

"Pam, what happened? Were you there?"

She looked at me, sharp. "What has he told you?"

"Nothing."

Pam leaned back in her seat. "Then it's not my place."

We drove the rest of the way to Bon Temps in silence.

* * *

><p>When I got home, my house was completely dark. The blinds were down. Every curtain was drawn.<p>

I wondered when the air raid siren had gone off and how I'd missed it.

"Eric?" I called, naming the culprit.

No reply.

I checked the kitchen. The tomato soup sat on the countertop, unopened.

I stuck my head inside the spare bedroom. The sheets were rumpled and there was a wet towel on the floor.

I decided to put my purse down and change into sneakers before I went back outside to help Pam unload the car. Then, the two of us could look for Eric in earnest.

I walked into my room, and stopped dead.

Eric was sitting on my bed, the contents of my drawers strewn around him.

"Back so soon?" he asked, completely unashamed.

I didn't know what to say. _Get out?_ As if I could make him. _I don't like this?_ I was sure he knew already. I settled on, "I hope you found what you were looking for." Unless Eric had been looking for my underwear—which I wouldn't put past him—his exercise had been a waste of energy. I didn't have anything to hide.

"Same to you," Eric said, and it took me a moment to realize he was talking about me reading his mind.

There were so many things I could say. _You're too loud, I can't help hearing. _Or, _if I could trust you, I wouldn't have to_ _listen_. But I kept my mouth shut. I wouldn't defend myself. I hadn't done anything wrong.

Having failed to get whatever reaction he'd been hoping for, Eric turned back to what he'd been doing before I entered—pawing through my possessions. I cringed as he tossed aside lacy underwear I'd bought while dating Bill. One pair still had tags. We'd broken up before I'd had the opportunity to wear it.

"Stop," I said. He'd made his point.

It was a mistake to show him that I cared. Eric smiled, seemingly energized by my discomfort. His hand chanced across what looked like a pad of paper. Something on it caught his attention and the smirk kind of slid off his face. When he plucked it out of the spray of my possessions, I saw that it was my word-of-the-day calendar.

Eric tore off the top page. Studied it. "Exsanguinate," he read.

When I had seen _exsanguinate_ on my calendar earlier this morning, I had thought the universe was teasing me, but in Eric's hands, it wasn't even slightly funny.

I shivered. For some reason I can't fully explain, watching him read my calendar felt worse than the rest of his mean-spirited attempts to one-up me—it was mine. I read it every day. I didn't like him touching it.

Mercifully, Eric was too focused on the calendar to notice me. He looked grim. When his thoughts pulled me under, I caught a flash of fangs and blood.

Literal exsanguination.

Ick.

I surfaced, furious. If it wasn't enough that Eric had forced his way into my home, now I didn't even feel safe inside my own head. I was about to say something that I would no doubt regret, when he cut me off with, "You are torturing me," catching me by surprise—and echoing what I might have said to him if he'd given me the chance.

Talk about left field. I had no idea what he meant, but his implication pissed me off. Eric was the one in control. I didn't understand how I could have tortured him, even if I had wanted to. I was too mad to think of my own words, so I stole his. "Same to you."

Judging from the look on his face, Eric got my reference, but before he could reply, the bedroom door creaked open.

He glanced over my shoulder.

Then, stared.

"Hello, master," said Pam.

Call me petty, but I enjoyed watching the color drain out of his face.

Exsanguinate, indeed.


	4. Plan B

_Apologies for the long delay. Life and work have been calling in their chips. The next chapter is written and should be up in the next few days, after a little buffing. Thanks for reading and reviewing!_

* * *

><p>Eric wasn't speechless for long.<p>

"Stay back," he said to Pam. "She can hear your thoughts."

Pam's eyes flashed to me, cold. I didn't need to read her mind to know I'd dropped a few notches on her favorite persons list.

I was suddenly aware that I was sandwiched between them, with nowhere to run.

I fought panic and forced a deep breath. My knee-jerk, "For goodness sake," sounded weak, even to my ears, so I tried to lay down the law with, "I'm not your enemy."

Eric just looked at me. He was sitting on my nightgown.

Jerk.

He caught me staring and bared his teeth, once again showing off the fangs that weren't there. What had been so threatening now looked like a nervous tic. I almost said something, but caught myself. I didn't want to be mean and, boy, did I not want to provoke him.

Pam seemed no friendlier. She stood in the exit, but she wasn't blocking it. Yet.

Now was the time to leave, before Eric decided that I couldn't.

The door out was only five feet away, but the walk there felt like one of the longest of my life. Eric's eyes bored holes in my back and Pam's glare brought the frontal assault. When I reached the threshold, I was afraid Pam would black me, but to my surprise—and relief—she stepped out of the way to let me pass.

"Thanks." I forced a smile. A peace offering.

Pam just looked at me. Her face was blank, but her mind was going at about a hundred miles a minute.

She'd killed Chow.

She was wondering how to tell Eric.

The thought was there, then gone, and Pam was on to thinking that Eric looked exhausted.

I stared at her.

One side of my brain was thinking, _holy shit_; the other, _don't stop smiling._

This was exactly the kind of thing Eric hadn't wanted me to hear.

"Sookie?" Eric's voice. Over my shoulder.

Crap.

I forced myself to look at him. The smile was hurting my jaw. "What?"

"Shut the door as you go."

It was the best thing he'd said to me all day.

Dear God, did I ever shut that door. I shut that door and just kept walking. I was able to get halfway down the hall before my legs gave out and I had to sit on the floor. My hand was shaking.

"Stop that," I told it. Then I thought, _stop that_, because no matter how bad things got, I couldn't start talking to myself.

Chow made me nervous. I didn't like him. But I didn't want him dead.

I also didn't need details. The less I knew, the safer I would be. But with open minds spilling their secrets, I was afraid I'd learn the full story eventually, and there wouldn't be a thing I could do to stop it.

* * *

><p>Out of hunger, desperation, and maybe a little spite, I cracked open the tomato soup as soon as I hit the kitchen. I slopped it into a pan and had just turned on a burner when I heard a knock at the back door.<p>

I closed my eyes and wished it away.

The knock sounded again. Louder.

I walked to the door and peeked through the blinds. Clancy stood on my stoop, pounding away. He didn't seem to be anywhere near giving up and going home.

Luck was not on my side today.

I opened the door. I would have preferred to turn the deadbolt.

Clancy's expression was grim. Like someone had died. Or, perhaps, come to life.

"You okay?" I asked.

He glowered and ignored the question. His feet were planted just outside my threshold.

"You don't need an invitation," I said, in case he had been waiting.

"I'd like one," he said, as if I were being rude.

I had thought opening the door qualified, but ending the argument was more important to me than winning it. "Okay," I said. "Come on in."

And he did. Clancy made a full circuit around my kitchen, as if he were sweeping for bombs, before settling at the table.

I nodded towards the corridor. "Eric and Pam are down the hall."

It was what my grandmother would call a healthy hint, acceptable to give guests after they'd overstayed their welcome, but not as soon as they walked in the door. I was being rude, but, then again, so was Clancy, whether he'd admit it or not.

Clancy ignored me and asked, "Do you have a shovel?"

"What for?" He sure as hell wasn't planting petunias.

"Business," he dodged.

I wish we could have left it at that, but lucky old me heard the details in his head. My 20 acres were looking nice and deserted to him. Ripe for planting. The metal case was still strapped in the back of the corvette and he had to bury it before the bodies inside—yes, bodies, as in corpses, as in plural—started to smell.

"Not on my property, you don't."

When Clancy's eyes widened, I realized my mistake. Stress was making me sloppy.

Clancy's mind wandered to the crowbar in Eric's corvette and I knew I had to think fast.

He'd only respond to one argument: what was in it for him.

If Clancy hid the corpses on my property, the deaths could be linked to yours truly. That worried me, not Clancy, who cared zip about my wellbeing. More persuasive to him would be the fact that burying the bodies on my land compromised Eric's safe haven. As soon as the corpses went in the earth, there was a chance the police would show up at my door. Without glamour, the Area 5 vamps could find the Bon Temps P.D. a more formidable obstacle than usual.

"Do you want to bring the police here?" I asked Clancy.

He stared at me, blank. He hadn't connected the dots.

I broke it down for him. "If you want to hole up at my house, you'd be stupid to attract cops."

"I don't want to hole up," he said.

It was music to my ears. Unfortunately, I couldn't sing his tune and get the bodies off my land.

"Well, Eric does." I hated to condone Eric's presence in my home, but I couldn't think of another way to convince Clancy. "He's here, for now, and I don't think he'd want you bringing police to the door." Honestly, I could give two toots about what Eric wanted, but I'd use his name if it helped me get Clancy's cargo off my property.

Clancy knew I was right. He gave me a venomous look. "You try hiding a body in the daytime."

No, thank you.

For some reason, hearing 'body' out loud upset me more than the flashes I'd picked from Clancy's thoughts. It brought the reality home. There were dead bodies in my driveway. I should be dialing 911. I didn't know if it was terror or self-preservation that kept me away from the phone. Either way, the instinct made me feel rotten.

I wanted to tell Clancy to get off my property and never come back, but it would have been stupid, maybe even suicidal, and he almost certainly wouldn't have listened. The only way to get the bodies off my land was to give him a better place to hide them.

But what did I know about hiding corpses? And, more importantly, whom would I be hiding? Chow was very likely one, but the other—if it was an innocent, a waitress who'd seen the wrong thing, for instance—could I help Clancy cover up her death? I didn't think so. But what if my only other option was standing by while he hid her on my land?

"Who's in the trunk?" I didn't want to know, but there was no way around it.

Clancy stayed mum, but once again I saw the answer in his head: A woman. Dark hair. I recognized her from Pam's thoughts.

She lay on the floor of Eric's office, bleeding out. Chow stood over her, mouth red. His shoulders were rising and falling. Heavy breathing. Like he'd run a race.

Chow coughed, then doubled over, and began to hack up the blood he'd just drunk.

He was human. I felt Clancy's revulsion as my own.

Clancy's memories blurred— a movie on fast-forward. Pam and Chow fighting. Chow's fist connecting with Pam's face. Her black eye.

On instinct, I closed my eyes to block out the images. It didn't do any good.

When I opened my eyes, Clancy was looking at me. He'd figured out that I was reading his mind. For some reason, he seemed calmer about it than Eric had been.

Maybe he had fewer secrets.

"Chow fucked up," Clancy said. Like Pam, he believed Chow deserved to die.

I wished I could trust his judgment.

Again, I thought about calling 911, but I couldn't think of what good it would do and immediately came up with a whole lot of bad, starting with Bud, Andy, and me getting killed. I didn't want to help Clancy hide Chow's body, or the woman that Chow had killed, but I wanted them buried on my land even less. Was that selfish? Probably.

I'd leave it for God to judge.

"There's a nature preserve two exits down I-20," I said. "Gate out front, but if you take the parish road a ways you can cut across to the marsh." I'd never been myself, but Jason had taken girls there in high school and he'd never seen a soul. He'd never told me about the hideaway, but he had thought about it a bunch when we were younger.

Clancy looked taken aback. I half regretted telling him anything. But I hadn't really had a choice.

"Never bring dead things on my property again," I said.

"That might be difficult," said a voice from the doorway.

I turned around.

Eric.

And behind him, Pam.

Halftime was over.

On cue, my tomato soup started to boil.

It was the excuse I needed. I made for the stove and watched out of the corner of my eye as Eric, then Pam, entered the kitchen. After a sharing a series of significant glances with each other and Clancy, they seated themselves at the table.

They wanted something from me.

I played dumb and took four bowls out of the cabinet.

"Clancy, take care of Chow," Eric said.

Clancy gave Eric a look. I couldn't tell if it was anger or what—it definitely wasn't a positive emotion—but he left the kitchen, slamming the back door behind him.

Relieved as I was that Chow was being deposited elsewhere, I couldn't say I was happy to be alone with the vampires. Especially now that I'd learned Chow had been executed. If they had killed one of their own, where did that leave me?

I didn't think asking Eric would do any good. In fact, it would likely have the opposite effect.

He was watching me. I had my back to him, but I heard it in his head. I didn't want any more surprises along the lines of what I'd picked from Pam, so I struggled to put up my shields. Blocking Pam was easy, but Eric ended up being more like a radio signal just out of range. Every so often, I'd get a stray thought.

It was an improvement over complete bombardment. It seemed easier to block him than it had been this morning. Maybe familiarity helped, I didn't know. Whatever it was, I was grateful.

I couldn't decide what to do about the vampires, so I turned my attention to the soup. I dished it into three bowls. I knew Eric hadn't eaten and suspected the same from Pam. Food might improve their attitude.

When I set soup in front of him, Eric gave me a look I couldn't decode. Pam was openly disgusted and not even trying to hide it. I ignored her dramatics, took my own bowl, and sat across from Eric.

Without looking at me, Eric took a single spoon of soup.

It was a peace offering.

He must want something badly.

The realization didn't make me happy, but bad news feels worse on an empty stomach, so I began to eat myself.

Once Eric tried his soup, Pam picked up her spoon and forced a few bites. She obviously didn't enjoy it and abandoned the soup after a few seconds.

Eric, on the other hand, matched me spoon for spoon. I put mine down to see if he would stop, but he emptied his bowl, possessed by some purpose that didn't seem like hunger. I didn't know what he was trying to prove, but I was glad he was at least eating.

The only time we spoke was when I asked if anyone would like bread. As soon as the words left my mouth, Eric said, "No," and Pam grimaced.

When we were done, I began to bus the dishes, but Eric gave Pam a look. She took the bowls out of my hands and started rinsing them in the sink. I was about to protest, but Eric said, "Sit."

I didn't appreciate the order. I stood next to the table, arms folded. Eric probably figured that was good enough, because he nodded at Pam, and she started talking.

"We want you to read a woman for us."

Pam had said as much at Fangtasia, but I was short on details. When it came to vampires, not knowing the full story was either ideal or suicidal, depending on the circumstances. This case fell into the latter category. If they wanted me on the front lines, I couldn't go in blind. "What kind of woman?"

"A young one." I could only assume Pam was being deliberately unhelpful. "We're meeting her after nightfall."

It was only 3 pm, but I figured Eric and Pam didn't want to advertise that they were available any earlier. "If I do this thing for you, that's the end of it?" The potato was getting too hot for me.

Pam and Eric looked at each other. I waited for Eric to say something, but once again, Pam spoke for him. "Eric tells me he's paying you."

"I'd rather be left alone," I said, dead honest.

"Really." Pam looked annoyed. Eric did too, but he kept quiet. It made me think he was saving up for something, which in turn, made me nervous.

"Truly," I told Pam and made a beeline to the dishwasher to correct the way she was loading the bowls. She was placing them open side down, like little domes. You'd think she never loaded dishes before. Upon reflection, I realized that she probably hadn't.

"Sookie, pay attention," Pam said.

I looked at her to let her know I was listening, then went back to correcting her subpar dishwashing.

"You will honor your agreement with Eric," Pam said.

"Sure." I felt angry enough to give her some lip, so I kept quiet rather than say anything I'd regret.

For some reason, my silence, of all things, provoked Eric into breaking his own. "Do you know what's going on?" His tone was light—meaning, he was furious.

That made two of us.

"No," I said.

"Listen."

Knowledge isn't always power. The only way knowing the full story benefited me was if I committed to help Eric and Pam—hook, line, and sinker. I wasn't prepared to sign over my life if I didn't have to. I didn't want to put myself in danger, yet again. A few months back, when I'd gone to Jackson to find Bill, I hadn't really had a choice because I'd still loved him. But this time, it wasn't my fight. Under normal circumstances, I liked Eric—more or less—and I'd help him within reason, but he was abusing the privilege, and I had to draw the line.

"I'm good, actually."

Eric ignored me. "Someone is trying to take over my Area."

I'd basically figured that part out for myself, what with his vampire honchos suddenly turning human. "And I'm sorry about it. Really. But—"

"You will be more sorry if the coup succeeds," Eric said. "What is Area 5's prime attraction?"

"Not the rich cultural life," Pam piggybacked.

Not the boudin at the Grabbit Kwik, either. The answer was probably living across the cemetery from me. I would have hoped that the brouhaha over Bill's database would have calmed down after the mess in Jackson. "I gave the discs back to him and I'm sure he didn't leave them in his house while he's gone."

Pam and Eric looked at each other.

"How many Areas have a telepath?" Eric said.

I felt a stab of fear. I could see where he was going and I didn't like it one bit.

I played dumb. "Barry lives in Texas."

"Do you feel overtaxed?" Eric said.

"Excuse me?"

"Do I work you too hard?"

He didn't want to get me started.

He must have seen a glint in my eye, because he was quick to jump in with, "I call upon you judiciously."

The past 24-hours hadn't felt very judicious, but I kept my lips buttoned tight as a church lady's girdle.

"It could be worse, Sookie," he said, almost gentle.

I needed to know more. He wasn't elaborating, so I let down my shields. At once, his thoughts filled my head. He was reading my Merlotte's schedule, pinned to the fridge. He reached the end of the week, then started at the beginning again.

He was learning to keep me out. I didn't know how that made me feel. Not great, because I hadn't yet hit on a way to guard against him.

Eric caught me staring at him and smiled. It was not a very nice smile— and in fact, was almost nasty. "You have a stake in my fate," he said. "Maybe even more than Clancy."

I recognized that Eric was trying to manipulate me. And, in spite of my better judgment, it was working. Between Eric and the possibilities, I was inclined to take the devil I knew.

That didn't mean I was happy about it.

"Fine," I said. "But you're human now. Start acting like it."

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I felt a stab of fear at my recklessness, but I couldn't unsay what was out there, and I didn't want to spoil it by backing down. Eric glared. I met his gaze.

This was beginning to feel familiar.

In for a penny, in for a pound. "You're making it hard for me to help you."

Eric and Pam looked at each other.

His face was still, but I could tell he was furious.

I had limited sympathy. After all, I was pissed too. "If I'm going to read this woman, I need to know what's going on."

"Sit," Eric told me.

This time, I did.

"I was contacted by a witch—" he began.

"Hold up. Witches?" Sue me for interrupting, but you can't drop a thing like that into normal conversation and not expect a person to react.

As soon as I said it, I reconsidered. There were werewolves and vampires. Witches weren't that much of a stretch. What was next? Leprechauns? Fairies? I couldn't consider the possibilities. Not today. Witches were enough to grapple with.

"Like black hats and broomsticks?"

"No," Eric said and then, for once, started talking.

* * *

><p>Eric's story was short and to the point. A witch wanted a cut of his business and threatened to curse Fangtasia to get it. He'd said no, at which point she'd sent a minion with a counteroffer—the woman with dark hair I'd seen in everyone's thoughts. The witch agreed to a lesser take in exchange for time between the sheets with Eric. I could vouch for Eric's skills in that department, but even so, it seemed to me that the witch was thinking with her hootchie and not her brain. Unless she had a deeper game at play.<p>

Either way, Eric turned down the witch's offer. Pam wondered why and I did too, knowing Eric to be practical, but he hadn't volunteered a reason—out loud or in his thoughts—and our truce was too tenuous for me to indulge my curiosity by asking.

That's when everything had gone south. Chow attacked the witch's messenger, killing her. In the process, he set off a spell that made Eric disappear and turned the vampires at Fangtasia—Pam, Clancy, and Chow himself—human.

"I killed Chow," Pam said, without a hint of feeling. I didn't tell her that I already knew. "I don't know if he was deliberately working against us or just stupid." She believed he deserved death either way.

I didn't know what to say to that, so I kept my mouth shut.

"Then, I called the witch," Pam said. "I thought she had Eric, so I told her we would bargain, and agreed to meet her at Fangtasia tonight."

I was horrified. "It's a trap." If the witch had cast the spell that set off this whole mess, she had to know Pam was coming to the meet handicapped.

"Perhaps." Eric seemed unconcerned, which made me nervous. "You will be there. Read her and find how to undo this curse."

There were a lot of things about this plan I didn't like, first of all me being in a room with a witch. "I can't just find an answer in her head. It doesn't work that way. Plus, won't she wonder who I am?" I said, because it felt slightly better than saying _won't she kill me? _which is what I was really worrying about.

"You can hide," Eric said. "There is a closet in my office."

Locking myself in a closet sounded like the opposite of a good idea. "What if she has a spell to find people?"

Eric shrugged. "Then, do not hide. As long as you read her, I don't care."

His lack of concern made me want to rip his plan to shreds. It was easier than it really should have been. "Whatever happened to avoiding other vampires? Fangtasia? At night? I mean, come on."

"That's why you're going in alone," Eric said.

I stared at him. "You're shitting me."


	5. The Ghost

It was the stupidest plan I'd ever heard.

Eric wanted me to sit in his office until the witch arrived, at which point I would tell her I was Eric's telepath and he was offering her my services in exchange for an end to the current hostilities. In this scenario, the overjoyed witch would take me outside to her car, where Eric and Pam would jump her, truss her, and shuttle her to an undisclosed location where I could rummage through her mind until kingdom come.

Eric had decided that this idiot plan deserved even a second of his consideration because it a) "bought me time" to read the witch and b) kept him out of Fangtasia. The bar was closed, thanks to our staged break-in, but there was still a risk that someone might be inside and, as Pam was quick to remind me, "We have to kill anyone who sees us alive."

Halfway through Eric's explanation, I decided that I'd rather face his wrath than allow myself to be cannon fodder. His plan was sloppy and foolhardy, but worst of all, it relied on the witch being an idiot. If Eric thought it would work, he hadn't just lost his fangs. He'd lost his mind.

When he finally stopped talking, I said, "Absolutely not," and braced myself for his response.

To my surprise, Eric smiled.

"There is one other way," he said.

My heart sank.

I'd been played.

Eric had primed me with his awful Plan A to make Plan B seem more appealing. The fact that he felt like he needed to fall back on tricks told me I wouldn't like what I was about to hear.

His lead-in was enough to give me palpitations. "I want you to tell the witch the truth."

"Excuse me?" I had no idea where he was going, so naturally my anxiety skyrocketed.

"Tell her I'm hiding in your home and you're afraid I'm going to kill you. Explain your connection to me however you want. You're a waitress at the bar. You're my human." He paused, maybe for dramatic effect. "Then ask for her help getting rid of me."

"Really?" If I were being kind, I'd call his idea idiotic. A blunter person might label it suicidal. If I didn't know Eric better, I'd think he was orchestrating an overly elaborate way to get himself killed.

I stared at him to see if he was serious. When he didn't blink, I said, "What if she takes me up on the offer?"

"That's what we want," he said. "Get her in your car. Say you'll bring her here."

That was never going to happen. "The witch isn't coming to my home."

"She'll never make it. Pam and I will be waiting along the road."

"Another ambush?"

Eric just looked at me, which from him, meant yes. His silence annoyed me. I wanted to ask him why he couldn't just vocalize like a normal person, but I took a leaf from his book and kept my mouth shut.

In all, I was disappointed. I wasn't wild about meeting the witch in the first place, but if I was going to be forced into it, I wanted to at least have a workable plan. Eric's current proposal would only succeed if we got lucky. It was basically a rehash of his Plan A. Lure and ambush.

To be fair to Eric, he'd had limited time to come up with any plan; it had been less than an hour since Pam and I walked in a front door. If we had been trying to kidnap a regular person, his idea might work. But the witch was a legitimate threat. I thought he was being too cavalier about the danger she posed to me, as well as to himself and to Pam, especially now that they was human.

When I thought about it in those terms, Eric's logic started to fall apart. He was strategizing like a vampire. How was he going to ambush a moving car? He was still strong, but that was a feat beyond any living person.

Eric glared at me, probably trying to bully me into acquiescence through willpower alone.

I didn't know what to say to him. Telling him the truth— _your plan won't work because you aren't a vampire anymore— _felt downright cruel. But, on the other hand, if Eric was going to make it out of this mess alive, he needed to reconcile himself to reality.

Two minutes ago, I would have thought it impossible, but I actually felt sorry for him. There is no easy way to tell a person they have limits. For someone like Eric, used to being in charge, it would be particularly difficult.

Honestly, though, what could I say? I almost felt like it wasn't my place to tell him. Eric and I had shared some good times, but I wouldn't call us intimates or even friends. He was using me now because there was no one else.

But that was just it—there was no one else. If I didn't tell him, who would? Pam wasn't going to say boo to Eric and, on top of that, she was dealing with the same issues herself.

Even so, I wasn't sure I could be blunt. I had no idea how he would react. If the last 24 hours had shown me anything, it was the value of treading carefully around him.

I knew he couldn't go through with his plan. But I hoped I could convince him without spelling everything out. It would be best for everyone if he figured out his limits on his own.

"I think you should forget the car ambush," I said. "It's too complicated. If you want to grab her, do it at Fangtasia."

"No," Pam said. "Anyone looking for Eric would start there. If they see you, fine, but either of us?" She shrugged, rather than put words to the likely outcome.

I didn't disagree, but it begged the question, "Why Fangtasia?" Eric and Pam kept harping on it, but meeting at the bar seemed overly risky to me, even if it was shut down. "Meet anywhere else. Not here," I added, before Pam could jump on the opening I'd handed her.

She didn't seem to notice my mistake, thank God. "Fangtasia is the usual place. Anywhere else and the witch would know there's a problem."

"She already knows." I wanted to tear my hair out. "She cast the freaking spell on you."

"She doesn't know it worked," Eric said.

To me, that sounded like wishful thinking. But I could hardly say that. I tried find a gentler way of telling him he was wrong. "How do you know? You can sense people through your blood." Actually, he could sense—past tense—but I didn't bother going back to correct my mistake. "Maybe she can feel her spells." To me, the idea seemed no more ridiculous than the GPS properties of vampire blood, but Eric and Pam smirked at each other.

"Either way, she'll know as soon as she sees you," I told Eric.

His smirk turned down a few notches. "Yes." He couldn't argue with the truth.

And neither could I. Eric's plan was complicated and he was overestimating his own abilities. There were many things that could go wrong, before we even took the witch into consideration. If she had the power to turn Eric and Pam human, I wasn't interested in finding out what else she could do.

Just as I was feeling like there was no way out, a solution popped into my head. It felt like divine inspiration. "Are witches a thing?" I asked. "Like, are there lots of them?"

Eric and Pam exchanged a glance.

"There are covens all over the state," Pam said. "If they are smart, they keep their heads down."

"Then find another witch to undo the spell." It was the obvious answer.

Eric and Pam looked at each other again. They didn't say anything and after a few seconds, the silence became almost uncomfortable.

"It has to be her," Eric said, finally.

I didn't get it. "She's dangerous. Why chase that pony?"

Eric glowered. "Read her and find the counter spell."

So, we were back to commands. It stung, being addressed like that, so I spoke up when I probably should have thought twice. "What if there is no counter spell?"

Pam looked sideways at Eric, who ignored her. "Not possible," he said.

I thought it was disturbingly possible. I was about to say so to Eric, when he added, with seeming certainty, "Anything done can be undone."

I disagreed. Eric's thoughts were coming straight at me, so I knew he didn't believe it either. I couldn't really guess at why he'd said it. Maybe it had been what he'd wanted to hear.

As I studied him, another solution occurred to me. "Is your maker alive?"

Surprise registered on Eric's face. As soon as I noticed, it was gone.

"Why?" he said, which I took as a yes.

"Could you ask her to turn you again?" It seemed like an easy fix.

Eric and Pam looked at each other.

"No," said Eric, and left the kitchen, which ended our conversation.

* * *

><p>I didn't know why my suggestion had offended him, but it was just as well, because Pam followed him out and just like that, I was alone, free to go about my upturned day.<p>

The first thing I did was call Jason to cancel our New Year's dinner. I had to rain check, whether or not I went after the witch. As much as I didn't want to be around Eric and Pam, I was more afraid of leaving them on their own. Gran would roll over in her grave if she knew that I was standing up Jason on New Year's, but it was for his own good. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I inadvertently dragged him into this mess. And if I went over to his house, the vampires might follow.

Jason didn't pick up his phone, which told me he was probably busy with his new lady. It was fine by me. She would keep him occupied and out of my house, which was the best thing for everyone.

A day dealing with Eric's problems had put Jason's into perspective. Sure, his new girlfriend was a shifter, but so was Sam and he was normal, more-or-less. Jason's lady friend was probably fine. I hoped she turned into a bunny, or something equally cuddly, but if that wasn't the case, there wasn't anything I could do about it. I had too many things to worry about without adding Jason's love life to the list.

Right now, I was just glad he had company. It made me feel less guilty about abandoning family on New Year's.

When Jason's answering machine flicked on, I apologized and, in a fit of optimism, asked if we could do dinner later in the week.

I hung up and walked into my living room. It was still dark, as was the rest of the house. I sat on the couch, but couldn't relax, so I went to the window and opened the curtains Eric had shut. Sunlight poured into the room and I felt a little bit better.

Eric and Pam were still MIA, hiding behind a closed door. He'd probably gone off to brood or plot my demise. She was obviously wherever he was, laughing at his jokes, giving him a foot massage, or doing whatever it was she did to earn her most-favored sidekick status.

I didn't bother looking for them. Instead, I initiated Operation Avoid Vampires, which is a fancy way of saying I went outside on the porch. I figured neither Eric nor Pam would want to brave the sunlight.

I underestimated them.

I had roughly 20 minutes of peace before Pam made her way outside. Her hair was wet and she was wearing one of my church dresses, which meant she had gone through my closet without asking. My dress was big on her, but she'd belted it, and topped off the outfit with a wide-brimmed hat that Gran had used wear while gardening. Pam must have found it inside the box of Gran's things I kept at the back of my closet.

Taking my dress was an annoyance, but stealing Gran's hat felt like a violation. I almost said something, but stopped myself. There wasn't any point. Pam was never going to apologize and, honestly, I didn't really care if she was sorry or not. I wished she hadn't taken the hat in the first place.

Pam stood in a pool of shadow close to the door jamb.

I didn't want to talk to her, so I turned towards the lawn. Bill's house stood in the distance. I wondered if the situation would be any easier if he were around. With my luck, probably not.

"You must read that witch," Pam said, behind me.

"Why?" I'd suggested two viable alternatives—find another witch or talk to Eric's maker. He'd ignored the former and basically vetoed the latter, even though I'd thought it was a good idea. What other vampire would care about Eric's wellbeing? I was sure Eric helped Pam whenever she was in trouble. Longshadow's maker obviously cared for him—he'd demanded reparation when he died. While Bill and Lorena had a troubled relationship (to put it mildly), they'd at least been invested in each other. It was hard to find a vampire who gave two hoots for any other and Eric needed all the help he could get.

I felt a press of unfamiliar thoughts.

Speak of the devil.

I turned around. Like Pam, Eric was standing in the shadow by the front door. Unlike Pam, he was wearing his same clothes; after all, he could hardly wear mine. He looked just as grim as before.

On second glance, he didn't seem grim so much as tired.

Eric was thinking about how stubborn I was.

I put up my shields.

"Sookie," he said. "Stop fighting me.

"I'm trying to keep you from getting killed." Among other things, chief among them not dying myself, but I thought Eric would respond best to an argument focusing on his own safety.

"Then we have the same goal."

I shrugged. That was debatable, particularly since he thought his plan was a good idea.

"I need to know who sent the witch," he said.

"How do you know she isn't acting on her own?"

"I don't," Eric said. He looked at me, expectant. I stared back. I wasn't going to make this easy for him.

"Read her for me." he said, for what felt like the thousandth time.

If I was going to read the witch, and put myself in danger, I needed to know that Eric was for real. He rarely lied to me outright, but he certainly misrepresented the truth, and I wasn't about to walk into a dangerous situation without a better understanding of the playing field.

I dropped my shields.

His thoughts filled my head.

The first thing I felt was his fear. He didn't know who knew about his situation, how other vampires would react if they found out, or what might happen if news reached the Queen. He didn't think Fangtasia could stay closed for long before she realized that there was a problem.

Eric's worries were a crash course in vampire politics. He jumped from one topic to another in a matter of seconds. By the time he was done, my head was spinning.

There was a gaping hole at the top of Area 5. With Pam human, there was no acting Sheriff. Eric couldn't contact another vampire without risking that they would kill him, glamour him, or go to the Queen. He was working against the clock. He needed time to break the curse, but if Area 5 remained untended, he wouldn't even have that before the Queen sent someone to investigate.

I hadn't even realized that was an issue.

Suddenly, I understood why he was so desperate to take action.

My own anxiety ratcheted up a level. If the Queen came after Eric, she would be led straight to me.

"How long can Area 5 get by without a Sheriff?" I asked.

Eric glared. He had suspected I was reading his mind, but now he knew for sure. I felt his anger as if it were my own.

It might have been wiser to be coy about the mindreading. Actually, forget might—it _would_ have been wiser. But Eric had guessed what was going on and any pretense seemed less important than getting to the point.

We didn't have time to be anything other than honest with each other.

"How long can Area 5 get by without a Sheriff?" I repeated. If he wanted my help, we had to have this conversation. I needed to know how what we were up against and much time we had to work with.

Eric looked furious. I thought he was going to threaten me, but then he swallowed whatever pride he needed to choke down and said, "Until someone notices."

So, not long at all.

They had to find a vampire to take the reins. "Who do you trust?"

Eric looked at Pam. Pam looked at the bushes.

So, their list was too short to enumerate.

That seemed so sad to me, I couldn't look at either of them. I gazed across the lawn. The cemetery. Bill's house. Eric followed my eyes, and almost as if he were the telepath, he said, "Not Bill."

Bill and I had our problems, but I knew him to be an honest man when it counted. "I trust him."

"That is nice for you," Pam said.

Eric shot her a look and she retreated into the corner of the porch. "Bill is not the right choice." Eric was obviously choosing his words carefully. He was thinking about a young woman with red-brown hair. She looked to be about 17, but from the caution in Eric's thoughts I assumed she was much older. I wondered who she was and how she was connected to Bill.

I wanted to ask, but I didn't want to antagonize Eric about the mindreading any more than I had already.

Pam must have noticed something, because she nudged Eric. He looked at me. I looked away—too slowly.

"You should not poke around," Eric said. "You might not like what you find."

I'd learned that lesson young. I didn't need to hear it from him.

"You're not easy to tune out," I said, then walked inside. Let him stew on that.

Eric didn't let me enjoy my exit line. Before I'd gone five steps, he was inside the house and, somehow, right in front of me, blocking my way. He was so tall, my eyes were at his chest-level. He was breathing heavy. It looked strange. I was used to seeing Eric move quickly. I wasn't used to seeing the effort.

He touched my arm.

I jumped. With the touch came his thoughts, flowing quickly, almost as if he were pushing them.

Eric was desperate. He needed a lead. The witch was the only link to the person plotting against him. He didn't know who else to follow.

"Sookie," he said. "Read her for me."

It sounded like a command but it wasn't. Not really. Eric might not be able to phrase it as a question, but he was definitely asking for my help. He didn't know what else to do.

I couldn't say no.

I couldn't make myself say _'yes' _either, so I just nodded.

"Okay." Eric looked flat-out relieved. Then he ruined it by smirking. It was as if he'd been expecting me to acquiesce all along.

"One condition." I said.

His eyes narrowed. He let go of my arm.

"We do it my way."

* * *

><p>It took me a good half hour to convince Eric to go along with my plan. Pam blew whichever way he did. When he finally came around, the three of us mapped out details.<p>

Clancy still wasn't back as the sky began to turn dark, but the ex-vamps decided that we should meet the witch without him. It would have been helpful to have another person for backup, but we'd staged everything so tightly, we didn't necessarily need him.

I packed my purse. I put in my wallet, some lip gloss, and then went to the kitchen to find the carving knife I'd hidden from Eric the night he arrived. It was the closest thing I had to a weapon. Pam walked into the room as I was putting it into my bag. She stopped, reached into her own purse, and, to my horror, took out a handgun.

"I bought it for the waitresses," she said, offering it to me. "You will need it before I do."

That was probably true. I took the gun from her outstretched hand and tried not to feel apprehensive. "Thanks." It was heavier than I thought it would be.

Pam held out her hand. "Knife?"

I hadn't realized that she wanted to trade. I was less than thrilled about giving Pam a big weapon, but she'd handed me her gun, so it only seemed fair. I took the carving knife out of purse and passed it to her, handle first.

"What do you use this for?" Pam asked, surveying the blade with professional interest.

"Turkey." It was my Thanksgiving knife. "Sometimes hams."

"Ladies." Eric breezed through the kitchen on his way to the back door. "It's time."

He opened the door and walked into the darkness. There was a bounce in his step. Maybe it was imminent battle or just plain old nightfall. Both he and Pam seemed to have relaxed significantly when the sun went down.

I was just about to follow when the phone rang. Out of habit, I reached for the receiver.

"Leave it," said Pam, already in the door jamb. Eric paused on the steps outside.

I shrugged. I didn't want to be late to meet the witch, especially since we had to set up. My phone could wait. If it was important, the caller could leave a message.

As I pawed around my purse for car keys, I wondered who it could be. Telemarketers didn't work holidays and I'd seen Sam and Tara last night. I supposed it could be Jason calling me back, but otherwise, I couldn't think who would be trying to reach me this late on New Year's.

As I was flicking off the kitchen light, my answering machine kicked in—me, saying something about the Stackhouse residence and how I'd get back to you ASAP. The machine beeped and, just as I was about to follow Pam and Eric into the night, I heard a ghost.

"Sookie?"

The voice was soft, the connection fuzzy, but I recognized the speaker immediately.

Eric and Pam be damned, I went back in that kitchen, and grabbed the receiver.

"Hadley?"


	6. Blind Date

Thanks for reading and reviewing! None of this is mine, belongs to Charlaine Harris and HBO.

A quick note:_ Dead to the World_, and this fic, take place in January 2005.

* * *

><p>"Hadley?" I said.<p>

The only reply was a dial tone.

"Let's go, Sookie." Pam stood next to me, her finger on the phone's switchhook. She'd disconnected the call.

I couldn't believe her nerve. "That was my cousin."

"I don't care if it was your fairy godmother," Pam said. "Time's ticking."

I was mad. I slammed the receiver down. Pam had to move her finger to avoid being squished.

The phone started ringing the moment the receiver touched the holder. I'd never seen the point in paying for caller ID, but tonight, it didn't matter. I knew it was Hadley, calling me back.

I reached for the receiver. But before I could grab it, Pam slapped my hand away and picked it up herself. She slammed it back into the holder, ending the call, and unplugged the phone from the wall.

I was so frustrated, it was a struggle to find words. "I haven't spoken to Hadley in years."

And that had been right before she went into rehab for the second time, which she later disappeared from, leaving Gran out $3000.

I looked at the unplugged phone.

The memories flooded back. I was glad Hadley was alive, but that's where my good feelings ended. When Hadley ran away after her junior year of high school, she hadn't told a soul where she was going. We'd feared she was dead, until she called one night after Aunt Linda had gotten sick, asking for money. Aunt Linda had died a few weeks later and Hadley missed the funeral. I don't think Gran had ever forgiven her, although she'd sent Hadley money the one or two other times she'd called out of the blue, needing a handout.

All Hadley had done in her short life was use and abuse my family. I thought this was a reunion? Who was I kidding? I hoped Hadley was reaching out to make amends, but if her past behavior was anything to go on, she was probably calling for money.

I wasn't necessarily glad that Pam had cut the call, but I was all of a sudden a lot less eager to speak with my cousin. Sure we were flesh and blood, but some people used that tie as license to abuse. After the initial rush I felt hearing Hadley's voice and getting confirmation she was alive, I almost dreaded finding out what she wanted.

I didn't want to be disappointed.

I had no way to call Hadley back. The only number I had for her was Aunt Linda's, which had been disconnected years ago. I'd have to wait for her to reach out to me again. If she needed money badly enough, she would.

Pam picked up the phone, cords and all. "The sooner you do your job, sooner you can have your little reunion," she said. Then she carried herself, and my phone, out the back door after Eric.

The screen door slammed shut behind her. All I could do was follow.

"God, Hadley," I said, as I went out into the night.

My idiot, drug addict cousin could not have picked a worse time to call.

* * *

><p>The Bossier City mall was almost deserted, which was made sense, as it was New Year's and most people were busy with family. There were a few husbands on last-minute errands, a handful of shopaholics with more bags than they needed, and, of course, the employees who couldn't get the night off.<p>

"Free sample, beautiful?"

As I walked past a perfume kiosk, the roving vendor sprayed me right in the face. His thoughts reached out for me. He was desperate to make a sale. I forced a smile and kept walking. I did feel sorry for those poor men who roamed the center of the mall, accosting every woman that passed, but that made the assault-by-fragrance no less annoying.

"Honey, wait,'" the vendor yelled after me. I quickened my pace. I had somewhere to be. I had a date.

Well, kind of.

Eric had a date. I was filling in.

It was all part of our plan.

"I want you to call the witch and tell her you've reconsidered your offer," I had told Eric a few hours earlier, right after he'd followed me into my house and guilted me into helping him, yet again.

He gave me a hard look. "I haven't reconsidered her offer."

"I know that," I said. "But she doesn't."

My plan was super simple. Eric would call the witch and tell her that he'd play ball. He'd ask to meet in a public place—a reasonable request due to their recent hostilities. When the witch showed up, Eric wouldn't be there.

But I would.

Of course, the witch wouldn't know it. Anonymous in the crowd, I'd be free to poke through her mind. Once the witch realized that Eric wasn't coming and left, I could do the same. She would never even know I was there.

Eric was quick to point out that my plan wasn't perfect. It was dependent on what the witch was thinking at any one moment. There was no guarantee we'd net any useful information. If she was composing her grocery list, for instance, there wouldn't be a thing we could do about it.

I was willing to take that risk. Eric's first instinct—kidnap and interrogate—would likely yield results. But I wasn't confident that we could pull off a kidnapping, especially with our vamps operating on half-cylinder. Even if we did manage, it wasn't a sure thing that we could hold the witch once we had her.

I saw of this as a starter plan—one that would give us enough information to get a better sense of what was going on. From there, we could figure out what to do next.

I pitched it to Eric as such. Even so, he was reluctant.

"You want to expend too much capital for unsure gain," he said. "If I set up a meet with the witch, I'll never be able to do that again."

"And if your plan goes south, we're all dead." I broke it down for him. "What's the worst that can happen with mine? I get nothing useful from her head? We're no worse off than we are now."

Eric glowered. "Except I will have wasted my opportunity to meet with her."

"Eric, kidnapping her is a mistake. Look what she did to you on your on turf." Fangtasia was the center of Eric's little empire. And that had meant squat to the witch when she turned him human.

Eric glowered at me, but it had to be said. The witch was not to be taken lightly.

He threw down the gauntlet. "I'm going after her."

"Fine." If he was going play hardball, I could too. "You'll have to do it without me."

I hoped Eric didn't do it. He wasn't on my favorite person list, but I hardly wanted him dead. Out of my house maybe, but not six feet under. He'd lived 1000 years. It would be a shame to see him throw it away.

Eric's face went blank. "That is a very brave thing to say, Sookie." It wasn't a compliment. His voice was too even. A shiver went down my spine.

But I knew I had the upper hand. Eric could threaten me. He could even tie me up and force me to go with him to see the witch. But he couldn't make me play a part in his plan. If he brought me to the scene as a hostage, I wouldn't be an asset. And without me luring the witch or, for that part, reading her mind, his plan would stall before it even started.

I knew it. He knew it. Thanks to my extra sense, I knew he knew it. For his part, he probably knew I knew he knew it.

He looked at me. He did not look happy.

"You are right to be cautious," he said, finally. I couldn't read the expression on his face. "It would be a shame if you died." He said it with no intonation. He could have been talking about the weather.

I had expected another threat, so I didn't know how to react. "Well, I think so too."

Eric looked surprised. Then, he laughed. It gave me whiplash, seeing him smile.

"Yes," he said, as if he were deciding something to himself. Then, "You would like me to do this for you?"

"I would like you to do this," I corrected. Only Eric could twist me going out on a limb for him into him doing me a favor.

"If I call the witch tonight, you will owe me a night in return."

I knew Eric didn't mean 'night' as in 'date night.' He wanted me to spend an evening working for him gratis. I didn't know where he was getting his logic, but it wasn't planet earth. "Nice try."

Eric smiled. It was obvious that he had taken my 'no' as a 'we'll see.'

He was relentless.

After that, it was all brass tacks.

Once Eric acquiesced to my way of thinking, we brainstormed meeting spots. He suggested a restaurant. I vetoed. It seemed too intimate and I'd stand out like a sore thumb eating alone. I proposed a big shop, like a Lowes or a Wal-Mart. The plan relied on me blending into a crowd and I wanted the maximum of people around. But once Eric pointed out that the flow of people in and out the door would be so heavy it would be hard to pick out the witch in the first place, let alone keep track of her, I let it go.

We finally agreed on the food court at the Bossier City mall. It was far enough from Bon Temps that the witch would never draw a connection to me and close enough to Shreveport that she could get the impression that Eric hadn't ventured too far from home and be thrown off our scent.

If everything went according to plan, my job would be easy. When the witch showed up to the meet, I had to be sure I was close enough to read her thoughts. Since she would be looking for Eric, she would likely be thinking about him. I would try to pick out any tidbits I could. In an ideal world, the witch would be thinking something like, _Oh, so and so hired me to turn Eric Northman human for this particular reason and undoing the spell is really easy, all it takes is blah blah blah and so on. _

Of course, the world wasn't ideal. Not even close. I'd be lucky to pick one of those elements out of her witch's head and it was more likely that I'd only be able to net fragments that we could piece together into a tiny part of the whole.

Out of the trinity of what we didn't know—who sent the witch, why, and how to undo the spell—the so-called "counter spell" seemed most elusive. There was no real reason the witch would be thinking about it, other than to make my life easier, and I knew hoping for that was a dead end.

I knew nothing about witchcraft, but I did know there was a big gap between vampires and humans and I doubted it was a simple abracadabra to switch the two. The witch had somehow broken the boundary between living and dead. That was heavy stuff, something that couldn't be undone in an instant, and something that I wanted to get away from as quickly as possible as soon as the circumstances—e.g. Eric—allowed me to keep my distance.

Eric shared my reservations about the counter spell, which surprised me. He said, and I quote, "That's tomorrow's problem."

I had assumed that Eric would have wanted to devote all his energy to turning himself back as soon as possible, and while that was still a major concern, the arrival of Pam had revealed that some kind of conspiracy was afloat and he was off like a dog with a bone on who had done this to him, and why.

"Bring a pen and paper," he told me. "Write down every name you hear in her head, even if it seems unimportant. I want a list."

He sounded like a grade school teacher. I wanted to ask of he was interested in my penmanship, but didn't think it would be remotely helpful, so I kept my mouth shut. Eric was so wrapped up in his own problems he didn't notice my discontent. "Who would hire a witch to turn a vampire human?" he asked.

"Not a vampire." Or, at least, not a smart one. Any bloodsucker with half a brain would want nothing to do with a spell that could make him or her so vulnerable.

Eric nodded. "Yes." He'd thought of that himself already. He ran down a list of alternate possibilities. Witches, the weres, the weasel of a man in the Shreveport BVA, the fairy.

My eyes widened, but luckily Eric was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to notice.

I wasn't really sure that I had, in fact, heard fairy in his thoughts—because that was ridiculous—and I couldn't confirm it by eavesdropping more, because Eric had moved onto wondering who would take care of the Fangtasia in his absence. He didn't think much of Ginger's math skills.

"Do you have enemies?" I asked, trying to nudge him back towards the fairy issue. "Anyone waiting to target you?" I knew enough about vampires to realize it was sort of a silly question.

Eric looked at me. "Anyone can be an enemy, Sookie."

He smiled and, in case you were wondering, it made his comment even creepier.

What made me feel worst was that I knew he wasn't kidding. Not in the slightest.

* * *

><p>The food court was as empty as the rest of the mall. There were a few teenage couples, a handful of Moms with young kids, and about half a dozen sad saps like me, eating alone. I'd gotten myself an 8-piece box of nuggets at the Chick-fil-A and found a corner table where I could sit with my back facing the wall. I felt like Queen of the food court—I could see everyone and had a clear view of who came in or out. At Eric's suggestion, I also took a minute to pick out the emergency exit doors. There were two, which presumably opened into the parking lot. I'd use those doors in the worst-case scenario, if I had to leave in a hurry. Otherwise, I'd walk back through the mall the way I'd came.<p>

Having gotten the lay of the land, I had nothing to do but wait. I had brought a romance novel. Usually, I'd stick with a mystery, but dead bodies and imperiled detectives felt too stressful—and, honestly, too familiar—after the 24-hours I'd just had.

This romance was set in New York City and featured a lady reporter who fell in love with the son of a mafia don. I thought she was bit of a ninny hanging out with him, but he gave her diamonds and called her 'Principessa.' The deluxe treatment helped convince her to turn off her brain and activate other parts of her anatomy.

I read a whole chapter. Carmelo took Fiona to a restaurant at the top of a skyscraper.

Meanwhile, I was stuck in the food court.

So this was an exciting plan, no? Lots of danger?

If I was lucky, no. If I was lucky, the witch would arrive, look for Eric while I read her mind, then realize he had stood her up and leave, allowing me to do the same. Then Eric and Pam, who were waiting in the parking lot in my car, could pick me up and take me home.

The plan was easy peasy.

What could go wrong?

Well, for starters, I didn't know what the witch looked like.

As far as a description, the vamps hadn't given me much to go on. "She is tall, with short hair," Pam said.

To which Eric added, "You will know her when you see her."

I hadn't thought much of that description when he said it, but right then, one of the exit doors opened, the witch walked in, and I realized that Eric had been absolutely right.

She was, as Pam had said, tall. Her hair was cropped close to her scalp, almost like a man's. Gran would have called it a "city style," but a lot of people in Bon Temps wouldn't have been that polite. We don't get a lot of edgy hairdos in our neck of the woods, so she immediately stood out. Her demeanor set her apart even more. She had an aura, for lack of a better word. I could tell just by looking at her that she had major power and she was not to be messed with.

The witch scanned the crowd, presumably for Eric. She looked over in my general direction—not at me, thank goodness—and took a few steps closer.

As she approached, I realized she was a were, which the vampires had either forgotten to mention, or figured it wasn't important. I thought it was pretty damn vital, and a stroke of luck on our part. Even though it would make her harder to read, she might have links to the Shreveport pack. I made a mental note to call Alcide in the morning to find out what he knew.

As far as finding out what the witch knew, I wasn't getting anywhere sitting in my corner. I was about fifteen feet away from her—too close for comfort, but too far for my telepathy.

The witch was standing smack-dab in the middle of the food court, arms crossed, obviously waiting.

Luckily for me, she had parked herself about five or so feet from a garbage can. It was a good cover. I shut my box of nuggets, picked up my tray, and went to throw away the trash.

En route to the garbage, I didn't look at the witch. I didn't want to call attention to myself. I did, however, reach for her mind.

Nothing.

I reached again.

Still nothing.

She wasn't a blank, like a vampire. I could tell something was there. The best way I can describe trying to read her mind was that it was like climbing a glass wall. There was literally nothing to grab hold of.

I was a little shaken. No one had ever kept me out before.

By now, I had reached the trashcan. I tipped my nuggets inside, dropped my shields and turned all of my energy at the witch.

This time I caught a thought.

_Who's there? _

I don't know how it was even possible, but her thought pursued me, trying to catch me, grab hold like a little fish hook.

I pulled out of her head. My heart was pounding.

The witch knew I was listening in.

She froze, then turned, and looked straight at me.

I try not to curse, as good practice, but right then, I might have let a four-letter word slip.

The witch was looking at me. There was no doubt about it. Her mind was still impenetrable, but I knew one thing. She was aware that I had been trying to read her mind.

The witch started to walk towards me.

I put my tray on top of the garbage can and began to walk in the other direction. Stay cool, I told myself. But when I glanced over my shoulder, and saw her quicken her pace, I knew there wasn't any point in pretending. She knew what was going on.

I aimed for the exit doors, but before I could even get close, a burly man stood up from one of the tables, blocking my path. I had no idea who he was, but he looked like the witch, tall with dark hair, and had the same sort of don't-mess-with-me vibe going on. I decided that I didn't want to make his acquaintance.

I turned around. The witch was behind me. To my back was her hired gun. But in front of me was a long line of shops, starting with Claire's.

I'd have to go through the mall.

I started to walk fast. The witch was doing the same. She was really tall and all I could think about how her stride must be double mine. Before I knew it, I was running. I whipped past a gaggle of teenage girls. They stared after me. So much for incognito.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and thumbed down to Eric's number.

Pam answered. Why, I had no idea. "Sookie?"

"She saw me," I said.

"What did you do?"

The last thing I wanted was to play the blame game. "Nothing," I said. "Look, meet me at the exit—"

"Which exit?"

I didn't have time for this. "Which one are you near?"

"We can move. We have the car. I think it matters more where you—"

I stopped listening.

The witch was standing right in front of me. Somehow, she'd managed to both overtake me and head me off at the pass, without me noticing.

Great.

Over the witch's shoulder was the sign for Regal Cinemas. _A Series of Unfortunate Events_ was playing.

Again, great.

"Sookie?" Pam asked.

"Movie theaters," I said, and hung up the phone.

The witch stared at me. I looked back at her. She was really very tall. If she was trying to intimidate me, it was working.

"Who are you?" the witch asked.

I said the first thing that popped into my head, which ended up being, "You walk quickly."

I never got to find out how the witch took the compliment, because an old friend popped up beside us, brandishing his bottle of perfume. "Free sample, beautiful?"

As the vendor leaned in to spray me, I said, "Sorry," kicked him you-know-where, grabbed the perfume bottle, and squirted it the witch's face.

_Aim for the eyes,_ is what Gran had always told me. She'd meant it more for drunk Merlotte's patrons who didn't understand no, not evil witches with the hots for my vampire houseguest, but the principle still applied.

As I ran away, I heard the witch scream.

"Hey," someone yelled behind me. "That woman attacked my sister."

It was the burly man from the food court. So, the witch had a brother. I tucked that away as useful information for some later date. Right now, I cared not at all. All I wanted was to get out of this godforsaken mall.

I looked around for any way out. The witch's brother was behind me—coming from the direction of the food court. In front of me were the movies. People were lining up outside. I guessed they didn't have enough Unfortunate Events in their own lives so they had to go see it on the big screen. Lucky them.

Movie theaters were dark and, critically, movie theaters had exits. I had also told Pam, 'movie theater' so it seemed like the only way to go. My only problem was time. I couldn't wait in line unless I wanted to find myself handcuffed or worse, if I was caught by the witch.

People were staring at me, and the witch's brother was close behind. I couldn't bother with the ticket queue. I hated busting in—it was basically breaking and entering—but I didn't know what else to do. The theater proper was blocked off from the rest of the mall by a series of stanchions and velvet ropes. I stared at it, took a deep breath, and jumped the barrier.

"Hey!" a theater employee yelled. I kept running, but a tremendous crash made me glance over my shoulder. It was the witch's brother. He'd tried to jump the stanchions after me and knocked them over. Theater employees were converging on him. I didn't wait to see what happened.

I ducked into the first theater I saw. I didn't catch the movie's title, but it was a big action picture with lots of screaming, grinding metal, and the earth being destroyed. It fit well with my mental state. Unfortunately, the theater was also packed. People sat up and stared as I raced down the aisle towards the sign blinking EXIT, adjacent to the screen.

I was reaching for the door handle, almost free, when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

I turned around. It was the witch's brother.

How he moved so fast, I'll never know.

How I moved so fast, I won't know either, because one second he had me and the next I'd reached into my purse and pulled out the gun Pam had given me. I didn't really plan it out. I was grasping for any way out.

I wasn't prepared to shoot him, but he didn't know that, and his eyes widened as I held the gun at him. "Let me go," I said.

He took a step away from me.

It was the opening I needed. Without waiting for his reply, I burst through the exit door, into the light of the lot.

I looked around. My car—with Eric and Pam—were nowhere to be seen. I stuffed the gun back in my purse before someone saw me and arrested me for firearm possession. I couldn't believe I had pulled a gun in a crowded theater. My only hope was that it was dark enough no one could identify me. Otherwise, I was definitely going to jail.

Behind me, the exit door creaked open. It was the witch's brother. I slammed the door shut, catching his arm. "I'll shoot," I said.

His voice was muffled by the door, but I got the meaning. "You would have done it already."

He was right.

I opened the door a crack and slammed it back again, trying to jam him back into the theater. It only half worked. I could feel him pressing back against the door's interior. It was inching open. He was stronger than me. I couldn't block the door all night, or even for the next minute, and I didn't have anything to bolt it with, so I just accepted the inevetiable, let go, and ran.

Where the hell were Eric and Pam?

I scanned the rows of cars. Each looked as anonymous as the next. My Malibu was nowhere to be seen.

Somewhere far away, I heard a car alarm.

I also heard the exit door opening. Heard feet hitting the pavement.

The witch's brother.

I thought about grabbing the gun. Shooting at the ground a few times, trying to scare him off, but by the time it took me to stop and turn he'd be on me. Plus, the sound of the bullets would bring the police, if they weren't after me already.

I'd played softball in high school. I could run short distances, but I was out of practice, and I could already feel the stitch in my side. I needed help. I needed Eric to pull his weight. I couldn't keep this up much longer.

As I ran towards the corner of the mall, I caught a thought.

_Duck. _

I crouched low as I rounded the corner. I'd been running so fast I kind of tripped over myself and rolled a few times, finally tumbling over the curb to land on the asphalt street.

I sat up just in time to see Eric, who had been waiting behind the corner, swing a metal baseball bat and clock the witch's brother full in the face.

The man was big enough it didn't fell him. He stopped, stunned. He took one look at Eric, bat raised, and disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Literally. A puff of smoke.

It was straight out of _I Dream of Jeannie_.

"Thanks." I was so winded I could barely get the words out.

"He saw me," Eric said. He was wondering whether or not to pursue. How to even pursue.

"Don't," I said. Eric looked at me, sharp. Shit. I'd responded to his thoughts. I didn't have time to apologize. "The witch is in there. We have to go." I wasn't going to let Eric risk his life when people were popping in and out of thin air.

Luckily, Eric saw reason. Or maybe he just didn't know how to chase someone who could vanish into nothingness. He came straight to me, dropping his bat on the ground. "Where did you get that?" I asked.

"Free parking." He nodded at the rows of cars nearby. A minivan with a Little League bumper sticker stood under the nearest streetlight. It was the source of the car alarm I'd heard. The back window was broken.

Before I had time to tell Eric that stealing was wrong, he said, "You are bleeding."

I looked down and realized I had skinned my knee.

The way Eric was looking at my cut creeped me out. While it wasn't quite fascination, it was definitely intense interest.

It was hard to believe he was technically human.

"Stop it," I said.

Screeching tires spared me from his reply. I looked up to see Pam arriving in my Malibu. Eric picked me up and threw me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, which was fortunate because he could run a lot faster than I could.

Pam raced my Malibu over to meet us, undoubtedly driving it faster than it had ever been driven before. The poor thing was rattling.

"Don't kill my car," I said.

"Better the car than you," Eric said as he threw open the door and dumped me in the back seat. Pam scooted over to shotgun and let him take the wheel.

Eric gunned it out of the lot, driving even faster than Pam had. I gripped the arm of the car and struggled to find my seatbelt.

He ran a red light as we barreled out of the lot. Vampire driving. "Car crash will stick nowadays," I said, through clenched teeth.

Eric acted like he didn't hear me.

I didn't have time to do any more backseat driving, because Pam turned around to look at me. "What happened?"

There was no reason to beat around the bush. "The witch knew I was reading her mind."

Eric and Pam looked at each other. "How?" he asked, taking a curve about 20 miles faster than he should have.

"I don't know." I tried to keep my voice even, but a scream was fighting to get out. "Stop driving like a maniac."

"Who was the man?" Pam asked.

"The witch's brother," I said. "Oh, and I assaulted her in the middle of the mall and pulled your gun, so now I think the police are after me."

Eric stepped on the gas.

And then, out of nowhere, the witch dropped out of the sky. She could fly.

She didn't even need a broomstick.

"Shit," said Pam as the witch landed on the road right in front of us.

The witch straightened and, as if she were some weird, supernatural crossing guard, extended her hand, palm up, to make the universal sign for stop.


	7. Joyride

The witch dropped out of the sky and landed on the road right in front of us. I think it was supposed to be a dramatic entrance, but she should have timed it better because without vampire reflexes, Eric's reaction was just as slow as any human's.

Meaning, he didn't have time to swerve.

We hit her straight on. She crumpled. There was a thud. Then another as we drove over her with our back tires.

Eric slowed. Stopped the car.

"Keep driving," Pam said.

"Stay inside," Eric told us, and got out himself.

My instincts screamed 'run,' but I stopped short of calling him back. However dangerous the witch was, we couldn't leave her to die. Gran hadn't raised me to be the type of person who would hit and run. But neither had Gran raised an idiot.

I cranked down my window and called, "Eric." When he turned, I offered him Pam's handgun. I didn't know if it would do much good against the witch, but it sure felt like better than nothing.

Eric eyed the gun like he didn't know what to make of it. It might have been the first time in 1000 years that he'd needed a weapon other than his own hands. Just as I was afraid that he'd refuse the gun on account of some idiot pride, he took it. Cocked it.

Nodded at me.

I crawled to the back window and watched Eric approach the witch. She lay less than ten feet beyond the back of the car. Her body was a little hump on the otherwise smooth surface of the road.

Eric lowered the gun.

Knelt next to her.

When he touched her, I knew.

Pam knew too. Even in the darkness, I could see the color drain from her face.

Eric got to his feet and walked back to the car.

"She's dead," he said, as Pam rolled down the driver's side window. He seemed remarkably calm.

On the other hand, I was a mess of feelings— relief we weren't going to be killed, revulsion we'd killed instead. I was also pretty damn scared. The witch's death obviously hadn't broken the spell. With her gone, who could undo it?

If no one could— if Eric and Pam found themselves permanently human— I doubted they'd live long. As soon as a real vampire found out about them, they were as good as dead. They posed too great a risk. What if news of the curse became public? Imagine how groups like the Fellowship would react if they discovered vampires could become human.

Moreover, Eric and Pam posed a threat to other vampires simply by existing. They were walking, living proof that a curse could strip the undead of their powers. If it had happened to the two of them, it could happen to any vampire.

This was not a message most vampires were interested in hearing. Everything I'd seen of vampires led me to believe they'd rather eliminate the evidence than extend a helping hand.

Louisiana was teeming with the undead and, ungoverned, Area 5 stuck out like a sore thumb. My guess was that Eric and Pam could stay under the radar for a few days, maybe a week, but not much more.

I didn't even want to think about what that meant for my own safety.

Pam was visibly upset. Too upset to try to hide it. "She's finally dead?"

Eric said nothing. There was no other kind of dead when it came to non-vampires.

"Now what?" Pam's voice was too loud.

Again, Eric said nothing. The way they were trading glares made me glad I was sitting in the back seat.

"Now what?" Pam pressed.

"Quiet." Eric looked as angry as I had ever seen him. "That's an order."

Pam's lips tightened into an unhappy line. She gave Eric a cold look, then got out of the car, slamming the door behind her.

Eyes fixed on Pam, Eric motioned for me to roll up the window. I obliged. I wanted to stay as far away from their fight as I could.

Through the back window, I watched Eric approach Pam. She had wrapped her arms around the witch's torso. She was trying to lift her, with little success. A few days ago, she wouldn't have broken a sweat. Now, she was breathing heavy. I couldn't tell if it was exertion or frustration. Maybe both.

"You going to help or not?" Pam said, as Eric approached.

Without a word, he picked up the witch's feet.

Pam barely acknowledged him. I watched as they shoved her body into the trunk of my Malibu. My stomach turned. I felt sick and afraid all at once.

I could have tried to stop them. I could have asked them to put her back on the road.

But I didn't.

Why?

Well, first of all, they wouldn't have listened. But more importantly, I didn't see any other options. I didn't want to hide the witch's body, but what else could we do? Go to the police?

If only life were that easy.

The correct channels were a luxury we couldn't afford.

As I watched Eric slam the trunk, all I could think was how sad Gran would be if she could see me now.

I pushed my guilt to the side. I'd think about it later. Now, there wasn't time. We might be on a deserted country road, but we weren't far from the mall. Somebody could drive by any second.

And unfortunately, hiding the witch was the least of our problems.

Eric and Pam were still human. Since the witch was now incapable of reversing the spell, who could undo it? Her brother? Did he have the power? And how could we find him? Or, maybe, another witch? But who? And who had sent the witch after Eric in the first place? What did he or she want?

These were all good questions. And If I puzzled through them now, I'd drive myself crazy.

I had to take it one step at a time.

First, we had to hide the witch's body. That was one situation where I felt comfortable relying on Eric's expertise.

When the two of them got back into the car, Pam slammed her door a little too hard. They sat for a second, in silence, not looking at each other.

"Where are you taking her?" I asked, to remind us of the task at hand.

"It's better if you don't know." Eric stuck the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life. "I'll drop you at your home."

I was surprised, and a little grateful, that he had decided to keep me out of it. On the other hand, it wasn't as if I had much experience to offer when it came to our current body disposal problem. Thankfully. "Okay."

As we started off down the road, at a much slower pace, Eric said, "You should report your car stolen. Just in case."

I saw the wisdom in his suggestion, but, "I need it to get around." Bon Temps might be a small town, but it wasn't walkable, and I could hardly call my brother or Sam for rides with Eric staying in my spare bedroom.

"We'll leave the car off the highway," he said. "Stage a joyride. It will be returned to you, don't worry."

I nodded. I didn't like it, but it seemed like the best outcome I could expect out of this pear-shaped situation. What if someone had seen my car and called it in? Better to file a fake robbery report and give myself an alibi, however slapdash.

Silence fell.

Pam broke it. "We're still fucking human."

"I'm aware." Eric's voice lacked inflection. He might have been talking about the weather.

"We were supposed to kidnap the witch, not kill her. Or kill her only if that breaks the fucking spell."

"I couldn't stop the car, Pam," Eric said.

Frankly, I was glad of it. I hated to see anyone die, but the witch would have attacked us if she had half a chance. I wasn't sure that the three of us could have faced her and come out alive

"Obviously," Eric said, even though there was nothing obvious about this situation, "we will find another witch."

Pam glared at him. "In your thousand years, how many witches have you found who can turn a vampire human?"

"I am at the end of a very short chain, Pamela." Eric took Pam's gun out his pocket. He placed it on the seat next to him and tilted it so that it glinted in the moonlight. "Do not try me."

"Face reality, Eric." Anger was making Pam reckless. "We're fucked."

I waited for Eric to lay into her, but he must have agreed on some level, because he didn't say a word.

Grim silence fell over the car. Again.

Then, Eric's phone rang.

He took his eyes off the road to check the display. I was working to tune out his thoughts, but I felt them flare up, press against my shields. He was upset.

"It's the Queen," he said to Pam.

Jesus.

She stared, like she couldn't believe what he was saying. The phone rang again. "Are you shitting me?" Pam said.

"I don't shit." Eric looked as upset as I'd ever seen him, which broke the previous record, set about a minute before.

"Answer." There was real fear in Pam's voice. "Or she'll send someone."

Eric grit his teeth and flipped the phone open. "Eric."

I don't think Pam so much as blinked. Her eyes were glued to him.

"Yes, your majesty," he said. Then, "Tomorrow?"

There was another pause, and Eric said, "I have a prior engagement—"

He trailed off. I couldn't hear what the Queen was saying, but I could hear her voice rise. She wasn't pleased.

"Tomorrow," Eric said, as if he were sentenced to death, and shut the phone.

"I'm summoned to New Orleans," he told us. "I must leave soon if I'm going to make it before sunrise."

Sunrise hardly mattered anymore. New Orleans was roughly five hours away. Eric could leave at high noon, if he so desired, and make it before nightfall. Especially with the way he drove.

"What does she want?"

I had overstepped in asking. I understood that immediately by Pam's glare, but Eric was feeling glum enough to answer. "I don't know."

"Could she have found out?"

"No," Eric said, too quickly. Wishful thinking.

"You can't see her like this," Pam said. "You'll be killed."

Eric looked miserable. "You'd rather I disobey and she send Andre? We'll both be killed."

"Fake your death," Pam said. "Or better yet, break the fucking curse." Her comment was pointed. Almost nasty.

Eric looked fed up, but to his credit, he kept quiet rather than be sucked into another fight.

"Don't go down without throwing a fucking punch," Pam finished.

Eric didn't say anything. After a second, Pam stopped glaring at him and stared out the window.

I had no interest in playing mediator, so I stayed quiet myself. Once again, I thanked my lucky stars I was in the back seat, instead of between the two of them.

A cell phone ring broke the silence. I looked at Eric automatically, but when he and Pam glanced towards me, I realized it was coming from my own phone. I hadn't had a cell for very long and was still getting used to it. I fished my phone out of my purse and checked the display. Jason.

"Now's not a good time," I said, as I flipped it open.

"It ain't for me either." Jason sounded pissed. "Guess who's got my phone ringing off the hook?" I didn't have the slightest idea, but it didn't matter, because Jason pressed on, without leaving me space to answer. "I don't blame you for hanging up on Hadley, but now she's all up on me, begging for a place to stay." He made it sound like it was my fault.

Hadley's phone call seemed like a world ago. "I didn't hang up on her." Not exactly.

"Whatever." Jason obviously didn't believe me. "I told her she could crash at your place."

My heart stopped. I looked at Eric and Pam in the front seat. "Now's really not a good time."

"Look, Sook," Jason said. "She can't stay here. I'm hanging out with this new girl. We're having fun and I don't need Hadley mucking it up."

My vampire problem trumped Jason's love life. Especially since there was a good chance Eric or Pam would kill Hadley on sight. I might be annoyed at my no-account cousin's terrible timing, but I didn't wish Hadley any ill, and I certainly didn't want her to come to harm.

"Jason, I can't." I said. "I have house guests."

He didn't try to hide his surprise. "Really? Who?"

I fumbled for a passable excuse. "Friends of Bill's."

"I thought you broke up."

It had been a few weeks, but hearing it aloud still stung. "We did," I said, trying to shove my feelings back in their box. "But I'm doing him a favor."

"In that case, what's one more?"

I paused, trying to think of an explanation other than _Bill's friends kill on sight_. "They're real particular."

It sounded lame, even to my ears.

"Look, Sook," Jason said, "I don't care if you take Hadley or not. I'm just giving you a heads up."

"She must be in some kind of trouble." If she was so desperate to come home, chances were she wanted to lay low. Maybe she'd pissed off the wrong dealer.

"She didn't say." Jason could care less.

"Well, she wouldn't have." Not if she wanted us to let her into our homes.

Silence on the other end of the line. Then, "Hey, Crystal just pulled in. I got to go." Without waiting for my reply, Jason hung up. Even though he hadn't taken the time to enlighten me as to who 'Crystal' was, I figured she had to be his new girlfriend. The shifter.

Eric and Pam were staring at me. "Is there a problem?" Eric said.

"Not yet." I hoped there wouldn't be. "Family stuff." When I looked back at my phone, a thought occurred to me. "Hold on one sec."

I thumbed a few buttons on the phone to call Jason back. He answered on the second ring. "Sook, this better be quick."

I could hear muffled giggling on his end of the line. A woman. Crystal moved fast.

"Do you have Hadley's number?" I wanted to call her and tell her not to come. Try to head off this mess at the pass.

"No."

I couldn't believe him. "You didn't ask for it?"

"Nope." It obviously hadn't occurred to him until I mentioned it.

It was all I could do to stop myself from hanging up on him.

In the background, I could hear Crystal giggling. Again. "Hey, Sook, I gotta go. Say hi to Hadley for me."

The line went dead.

I loved my brother, but some days I just wanted to smack the fool right out of him.

Eric and Pam were staring at me, expectant. I couldn't think of anything to tell them but the truth. "My cousin wants a place to stay."

They looked at each other. "Enough people know about us as it is," Pam said.

'Enough' meant me.

"Look," I said. "She might show up at the house. I'll find her another place, but she's harmless, so I don't want you two—"

I trailed off when Eric caught my eyes in the rear view mirror. His face was blank, which was never a good sign. "You don't want us doing what?"

It might not have been a direct threat, but it sure felt that way.

I worked to keep my voice even. "Let me handle her. Please."

Eric and Pam looked at each other, then fell quiet. Pam looked out the window. Eric kept his eyes on the road ahead. I figured their silence was as close to a 'yes' as I could expect.

We drove the rest of the way to Bon Temps without speaking. I kept running over the events of the last hour through my head—trying to find anything that might help us fish ourselves of the rapidly deepening sinkhole we'd fallen into. I picked through the chase in the mall, the parking lot, the accident. I had barely believe it when the witch had dropped out of the sky. It was as if she had come straight out of Superman.

In fact, outside of the movies, I had only seen one other person fly.

And he was sitting in the front seat.

"Could you always fly?" I asked Eric, as we turned onto Hummingbird Lane. "I mean, could you as soon as you were turned?

He looked at me, surprised, and after a second or two, said, "It happened over time."

"Have you ever seen a person fly? Other than the witch." I certainly hadn't, but I knew there were a lot of things beyond my experience. I'd never seen the ocean, for instance, but I didn't doubt its existence.

"Not in a thousand years." Eric was quiet for a second. "What are you suggesting, Sookie?"

I shrugged. I wasn't suggesting anything. At least, not yet. I felt like I was trying to work through a puzzle. Eric could fly. The witch could also fly. But what if those facts weren't separate? Maybe the witch could fly because Eric could fly. What if the spell hadn't just turned Eric human? What if it had worked both ways—taken something from Eric and given it to the witch?

Did that make any sense? Was I leaping to conclusions? I had no way of knowing. Basically, we had to learn the parameters of the spell. Unfortunately, there was only one person who could have enlightened us and she was currently in the trunk of my Malibu.

"We need to find another witch," I said.

"Yes." Eric was staring at me, unblinking. Almost as if he were trying to memorize my features. As I looked back at him, I could hear my heart beating. I didn't know if it was fear, or something else. Something I really didn't have time for right now. "But where?"

With that, he pulled into my driveway. As we rounded the corner, my jaw dropped.

There was a limousine parked outside my house.

"Are you expecting guests?" Pam asked.

When I shook my head no, Eric slowed my Malibu. Stopped it.

It was too late. The chauffeur's door opened. A slim figure emerged.

We were twenty feet away and it was dark, but I knew my cousin Hadley in an instant.

* * *

><p><strong>Happy Labor Day to all the US readers and apologies for the long delay. Other than moving and starting a new job, I haven't had a lot going on :) <strong>


	8. Homecoming

The limousine door opened. A slim figure emerged.

We were twenty feet away and it was dark, but I knew my cousin Hadley in an instant.

As one, Eric and Pam reached for the handgun. Since there was one gun and two of them, they ended up smacking into each other. It would have been funny if they hadn't been trying to shoot one of my family members.

"Stop," I said, before either of them could pull a Lee Harvey Oswald. "That's my cousin."

Pam raised an eyebrow. "Your cousin? In a limousine?"

I tried not to get offended and failed miserably. My family might not be fancy, but that didn't make us incapable of riding around in limos, if we so desired.

Pam must have realized she'd overstepped, because she backed off with, "Who drives a limousine anyway?"

Coming from her, that was practically an apology.

Eric stared straight ahead, acting as if he hadn't heard us, but I saw the smallest of smirks cross his face.

I'd never say it out loud, but I agreed with Pam. Who drove a limo? Personally, I thought they were a waste of good money. If you wanted to announce your presence wherever you went, save your cash and buy yourself a bullhorn.

Maybe I'd misjudged the situation. Maybe Hadley wasn't in trouble. If I had to skip town, I'd pick the most unobtrusive car I could find. A limo would be the last on my list. Actually—next to last. Last would be a double-decker bus with a picture of my own face plastered to the side. Hadley, however, liked making a splash. The Hadley I knew chose luxury over practicality.

Hadley was staring at our car now, curious. She was too far away to see inside and she didn't seem to want to approach us, but I wasn't sure how long her reluctance would last. I had to face her, but Eric and Pam didn't. In fact, Eric and Pam shouldn't.

"It will be easier if she doesn't see you," I said.

Eric nodded. "We'll take care of the witch. You deal with her. We'll be back in a hour."

An hour didn't give me a lot of time to get rid of Hadley. "Fine. But if you see the limo outside you'll know it's taking longer." When Hadley wanted something she was like a dog with a bone. On one level, her determination was admirable. On another, it was about to make my life very difficult.

"We'll be back in an hour," Eric repeated, speaking of difficult.

I didn't have the energy to get into it with him, so I just nodded and got out of the car. I watched as he pulled away. Soon, his headlights were little pinpricks in the darkness.

I had a whole hour without the ex-vamps, as I had privately decided to call them (somehow, I didn't think Eric and Pam would get as much amusement out of the nickname as I did). A whole hour without supervision.

Unwittingly, Eric had given me an opening. I could jump in Hadley's car and ask her to drive me as far and as fast as the wheels would take us. As soon as the fantasy ran through my head, I knew it wouldn't work. With my luck, Hadley and I would end up more like Thelma and Louise than free birds.

And, if I was being really honest with myself, I knew I couldn't leave Eric and Pam. Without me, they had no one but themselves. Fear of discovery would keep them isolated. Without help, and with the Queen's summons hanging over them, they'd probably be dead within the week.

I couldn't let that happen. Not if there was anything I could do to stop it. No matter how much I might want to get away.

The thought of Eric or Pam dying turned my stomach. When they weren't threatening me or shuttling me between life-threatening situations, I almost liked them. Well, maybe 'like' was strong. I enjoyed their company. Eric had a good sense of humor and I'd stare at him more often if I didn't think it would inflate his head to the point of bursting. Pam was, well, Pam.

But even if they'd rubbed me the wrong way 24-7, I couldn't abandon them. They'd never put it this way, but they were counting on me. I'd be just about the worst person in the universe if I left them hanging.

Eric trusted me enough to leave me by myself, knowing his secret. I realized, in a way, I trusted him too. Hadn't he come through for me at the mall? He'd hit the witch's brother with a baseball bat to protect me. We'd been in the parking lot, it hadn't been full dark, and someone might have seen him. Of course, Eric might not have been trying to safeguard me personally as much as the information he thought I had.

I watched his headlights disappear around a bend.

Eric never had a single reason for doing anything.

I sighed.

I had an hour.

I turned around. Hadley was hovering next to the limo. She was staring straight at me, but she hadn't moved or called out, so I wondered if she knew who I was. The last time she'd seen me, I'd been in the eight grade.

I raised a hand. Waved. "Hadley."

She yelped—honestly yelped—and started sprinting towards me, arms outstretched. I braced myself for the inevitable hug. It took ten seconds, then Hadley was on top of me. She threw her arms around my neck and squeezed me tight enough to cut off air. "I thought it was you. God, you're so grown up."

Hadley had never been overly affectionate, especially as we got older, but I went with it and hugged her back. She was squeezing me so tight I could hear her heart beating. She was squeezing me like she thought she'd never see another person again. That—combined with the chorus of _thank god, thank god, _I was getting from her thoughts—told me she was in trouble, probably deeper trouble than I'd let myself imagine.

"Who was that in the car?" she asked, when I managed to wriggle free.

"Friends," was easier than the truth. "Where'd you get the limo?"

"Friends," she said.

So that's how we were going to play it.

There was an uncomfortable silence.

I nodded at the house. "You hungry?"

"God, yes." Hadley grinned and we were back on track. "I don't know how long it's been since I've eaten."

She said it like she meant it. Like, really meant it. Like she was ravenous. I looked her up and down. I hoped that wasn't junkie talk. I didn't think so; Hadley looked healthy. She was slim, sure, but not skin and bones. Her eyes were clear and her hair was sleek, kind of Hollywood-looking. She'd obviously had it styled and it looked like it had cost some money.

"Come on in," I said. "I'll fix you something." As I started towards the house, Hadley fell into step behind me.

When we passed the limo, I couldn't help wondering how Hadley got it. My bet—and I would never say anything like this to Pam—was that she'd taken up with a wealthy client. It was no secret among the family that Hadley had chosen to make her living by her wits and on her back, but that didn't feel right to discuss with Pam, Eric, or anyone outside the family circle.

"I heard about Gran," Hadley said, as soon as we stepped into the house. My back stiffened. I knew Hadley had loved Gran, in her way, but she'd also caused her a lot of heartache. The last thing I wanted to do was reopen old wounds. Hadley, of course, had missed Gran's funeral.

As if she were reading my mind, she said, "I wanted to come to the funeral. I really did. But it was a tough time in my life. I'd been through a lot of… transitions and, honestly, I didn't know if I'd be welcome. Last time I'd talked to Jason he made it pretty clear he didn't want to see me." Her voice wavered, as if she were about to cry. "And I don't know if Gran ever forgave me or if she would have even wanted me there."

It was ridiculous for her to think that her own grandmother wouldn't want her at her funeral. Gran was a kindhearted woman and if Hadley had given it a moment's thought she would have known that wasn't true.

I couldn't listen to her talk about what Gran would or would not have wanted, so I cut her off.

"Hadley. It's okay."

It wasn't. Not entirely. But Gran had loved Hadley, in spite of everything, and she wouldn't want her shown the cold shoulder.

That seemed to be what Hadley needed to hear. She threw her arms around me a second time. Of course, with the hug came with the waterworks I'd been trying to avoid.

I hugged her back. I don't believe in giving people a free pass, but it was clear that Hadley regretted her choices. I had nothing to gain from making her feel worse. And Gran would have wanted me to forgive her.

"I knew I could count on you, Sookie," Hadley said, through sobs.

With the hug, came her thoughts. A mix of guilt, fear, and urgency overwhelmed me. Hadley definitely wanted something. It sort of dampened the reunion.

I managed to pat her on the back before extracting myself.

We stared at each other. Neither of us knew what to say. We might be family, but we were practically strangers.

Hadley was thinking about the best way to ask if she could stay in my home. "Come on," I said, "let's get some food." It was best to have that uncomfortable conversation when we were sitting down.

At the mention of food, Hadley's smiled. Wide. It was kind of strange. I opened the door and she actually beat me to the kitchen. When I caught up with her, she had her head in the fridge.

"Oh bless you, Sookie, you've got bacon," she said, pulling my package off the shelf and tossing it onto the counter. "I haven't had this in years." Her eyes lit up. "Do you have ice cream?" Hadley threw open the freezer.

Within seconds, she'd found a spoon, seated herself on the counter, and was digging into my private stash of Rocky Road.

This definitely wasn't normal behavior. Hadley didn't seem high, but I wasn't counting it out. When she said she hadn't eaten in days, maybe she'd meant it literally. "You weren't kidding about being hungry." I got eggs out of the fridge to fry up with the bacon.

"I'm on this special diet," Hadley said, ice cream spoon half in her mouth. "Keeps me looking like this," she nodded at herself. I eyed her trim waist and tried not to feel envious. "But there's nothing like real food." Hadley took another bite of ice cream and almost moaned. "Goddamn, Sookie, this is so good. I'd almost forgotten."

I smiled at her, mostly because I didn't trust myself to speak. Maybe Hadley was actually high.

"You have any beer?" she asked.

"Um, no." I don't drink very much. I see enough of it at the bar. But even if I'd had beer in the house, I wouldn't have given it to her. Hadley wasn't going to be happy when I told her she couldn't stay and I didn't want to make that conversation more difficult that it would be already.

She looked disappointed. "Oh. Okay. Just ice cream's fine then."

I bit my tongue and switched on the burner to warm up Gran's skillet.

Again, Hadley was wondering how to ask if she could stay in my house. The ice cream seemed to have elevated her mood as high as it could go, so I decided to cut to the chase. "Hadley, Jason mentioned you wanted to stay here with me, but—"

"Well, it's not just me," she said, taking me aback. "I have these friends and we just wanted to take a trip, you know, out of New Orleans. Like a mini-vacation. So I decided to show them where I'm from."

I just looked at her. A mini-vacation?

Either Hadley thought I was an idiot, or she was just not very smart herself.

She must have seen something on my face, because she backpedaled. "Normally I'd ask Jason, but we had a fight a few years back, and I'm still kind of pissed at him. And anyway, when we talked, he seemed real busy—"

"Hadley." I cut her off before she worked herself into a lather. "It's great to see you, but now's not the best time."

Her face fell. "Really? Why?"

"I have friends staying here." I wished I could think of a better way to describe Eric and Pam. I sounded like a bitch turning away family in favor of friends. But there was no helping it. "I'm full up." I felt guilty turning away family, especially family in trouble, but I reminded myself it was for Hadley's own good. Plus, she was still lying to me. "I'm sorry."

"I like to party." There was a desperate edge in Hadley's voice. "The more the better. Tell me about your friends. They from around here?" That felt a little like a dig. Like I wouldn't have friends from Bon Temps.

"They're from here." I wasn't going to dignify her with anything else.

Hadley was quiet for a second. I could see her wheels turning. Then she smiled at me. Slow. Sweet. "Sookie, I haven't seen you in years." She made it sound like she'd really missed me, too. "This could be good for us."

Actually, it would be bad for us. Really bad. Possibly fatally bad. I couldn't let my druggie, loud-mouthed cousin, and her friends—god knows who they were—end up under the same roof as two ex-vampires. It wouldn't end well for anyone. "Hadley, I'm sorry."

For a second, she looked mad. But she covered it with another smile. "I feel like I barely know you. This is our chance." When I didn't say anything, she turned the screw. "It's what Gran would have wanted."

Now that just pissed me off.

Manipulating me was one thing, but using Gran's name was a step too far.

"Hadley, how about you tell me what's really going on?" I said.

Her eyes widened, first in surprise, then put-on innocence. "What do you mean?"

"Look," I said. "I'd like to help you. You can't stay here, but I'd try to find you a place." If Jason continued to be unreasonable, maybe I could ask Tara or Sam. "But I don't want to put one of my friends in danger if you're going to keep lying."

Hadley was the picture of innocence. "I'm family, Sookie. I wouldn't lie to you."

I was almost frustrated enough to tear my own hair out. "Stop, Hadley. You know I know."

It was the closest we'd ever gotten to discussing my telepathy. Like Hadley's profession, it was one of those unspoken family secrets.

Her mouth opened. Outrage. "You're listening to me?"

I just looked at her. Hadley wasn't a broadcaster, but I could catch hold of her thoughts easily. I hated to eavesdrop in general and on family in particular, but I wouldn't let myself be manipulated.

Right now, she was thinking about her friends. How mad they'd be. She was actually frightened.

It made me feel sorry for her. "Hadley, just tell me the truth. I want to help you."

She sank to a seat on the table and covered her face with her hands.

I sat across from her. "What happened? Did you steal something? Piss off a dealer?" When she didn't say anything, I took her hand. Her thoughts filled my head.

_Please just help, goddamnit. I want your help, I need your help—_

She yanked her hand out of mine. Stared at me for a second, then said, "My ex-husband's trying to kill me."

I hadn't seen that one coming. "I didn't know you were married."

"I didn't want to tell you. Didn't think you'd approve."

I didn't get it. "Of your marriage?"

"Of my divorce," she said. "Oh don't give me that look, Sookie. You've always been so goody two-shoes."

Not lately.

"He's mad because you left him?"

"Not exactly." Hadley sat back in her chair. She seemed to be gearing up for something big. "Sookie, I'm a lesbian."

It took me a second to register what she said. Then all I could do was repeat it, like an idiot, "A lesbian?"

And I had thought the husband was a surprise.

"I loved Remy. At least I thought I did." Hadley wasn't meeting my eyes. "But when I met my girlfriend I realized a whole part of my life had been missing and I hadn't even known it." By the way she was half-smiling, unconscious to it, I knew she was telling me the truth. "He couldn't take me leaving him for a woman. He's been stalking us. We thought we'd get out of town for a while, let him cool down. Bon Temps seemed pretty remote. No offense."

"We?" I said. "You're with your girlfriend?"

"She's coming tomorrow morning," Hadley said. "Thank god. I don't think I could do this on my own."

Hadley's relief was genuine. I could tell, just by looking at her, that she cared for her girlfriend, whoever she was.

The story was so bizarre it had to be the truth. Plus I didn't think Hadley, always so concerned with appearances, would admit to being different and make herself vulnerable, unless it was the truth.

She finally met my eyes. "Sookie, do you hate me?" Her thoughts were tinged with fear and shame. She remembered me going to church every Sunday. She was honestly afraid I might turn her out.

"No," I said, and meant it. It wasn't my place to judge where and how anyone found love. It wasn't my place to judge anyone for being different, especially considering how often I myself had run up against prejudice.

It meant a lot to me that she'd told me the truth. In some ways, I felt like the gulf between us had narrowed, just a little bit.

I wanted to dignify Hadley's confession with one of my own. "I haven't been completely honest with you either."

She was immediately suspicious. "What?"

Eric would kill me if he knew what I was about it say, but my cousin had just spilled her guts to me and I couldn't bring myself to turn around and lie to her face. "You should really stay with Jason. I'm in a little bit of trouble, nothing to worry about, but I don't want you getting dragged into it."

"What kind of trouble?" Hadley suddenly looked hard. Capable. It was a weird shift and completely alien from the cousin I'd known. I wondered what exactly she'd done and seen in New Orleans. "Maybe we can help. My girlfriend's in business. She's good at straightening things out."

"It's under control," I lied. I appreciated her offer, but Eric was probably the furthest thing from the kind of problems Hadley's girlfriend usually handled.

"I'm serious, Sookie," Hadley said. "You want help, say the word."

I needed to change the subject before Hadley unwittingly signed herself and her girlfriend up for all-out vampire warfare. "Look, Jason's just being an ass because he's got a new girlfriend. You tell him what you just told me and I'm sure he'd let you stay." He'd probably be tickled pink to have a lesbian couple under his roof. For all the wrong reasons, of course.

"I don't know, Sookie. He was pretty mad on the phone."

"Call me if he gives you trouble." Now was the time for honesty. "I wish I could help you, Hadley. I really do. But it's best for all of us if you give me space to sort this out. At least for now."

Hadley must have been able to tell I was serious, because she nodded. "Okay." Then, she reached across the table to squeeze my hand. "Promise you'll at least meet Sophie. I've told her so much about you."

It was a nice thing to say. So I smiled and said, "Sure thing," even though I had a hard time believing it was actually true, considering how rarely Hadley and I had featured in each other's lives until now.

* * *

><p>After that, I fixed Hadley bacon and eggs, which she ate almost as appreciatively as the ice cream. She told me more about her crazy diet, which was something out of Eastern Europe, all liquid. Apparently it was catching on with a lot of the Hollywood stars. "It's not as bad as you might think," Hadley said, as she took a heaping spoon of eggs. "But it can get kind of monotonous."<p>

When Hadley finished with her dinner, she left for Jason's. She gave me a kiss on the cheek before she went. "It's been good to see you."

"You too." I hugged her and meant it.

After watching her drive away, I went back inside and checked the clock. I had roughly ten minutes before Eric and Pam were due back. I wanted to take a power nap, and I still had to call the police to report my car stolen, but an idea had popped into my head towards the end of dinner and if I was going to see it through, I had to do it before Eric returned.

Why?

Because he'd never let me go through with it.

I walked into my bedroom, sat on my bed—still littered with the stuff Eric had pulled out of my drawers—and weighed the pros and cons of going behind his back.

The cons were obvious. Eric would be furious once he found out and he would find out.

The pros were more elusive. If I had misjudged the situation, it would mean disaster. But if I were right, I would buy us time.

Right now, time was what we needed about all—we needed time to find a witch, time to break the spell, and time to figure out what the hell was going on. With the Queen breathing down Eric's neck, time was exactly what we didn't have.

If I didn't take this leap, we had no more than a day to fix the situation. The Queen was expecting Eric in New Orleans tomorrow night.

If I took this risk, and it paid off, we might gain a week. Maybe two.

A week made a huge difference. With every extra day, our odds of survival grew by leaps and bounds.

That was good enough for me.

In a way, I was doing for Eric what he couldn't do for himself. Of course, he'd probably rip my head off if I presented it to him that way. Maybe with the benefit of hindsight, he'd thank me. Well, on second thought, probably not. That wasn't really Eric's style.

I dug through my nightstand and fished out a slip of paper. On it was a phone number I'd sworn never to call. So much for that. I'd already broken my New Year's resolution ("stay out of trouble"). What was one more broken promise to myself?

I picked up my bedside phone—thankfully, Pam hadn't had a chance to unplug this one—and started to dial the number. Halfway through, I put the receiver down. Took a deep breath. Steeled myself.

Okay, I was ready.

Eric would be back any second. I had to stop stalling.

I picked up the receiver and started dialing again. The phone number was twice as long as normal, but I guess those are the rules of the game when you're calling international. I didn't even want to think about how much the long distance fees would cost. Halfway through, I thought about calling collect, but stopping and starting from scratch was just another way to defer the inevitable. Plus, call me foolish, but I was too proud to ring up my ex and then ask him to foot the bill. So to speak.

The phone rang once. Twice. There was a click.

Rapid Spanish poured into my ear. A woman's voice.

"Um. Hi. Hola," I said.

I didn't want to be rude, but I had no idea what she'd said to me, so I cut to the chase.

"Is Bill Compton around?"


	9. Ambassador

The phone rang once. Twice. There was a click.

Rapid Spanish poured into my ear. A woman's voice.

"Um. Hi. Hola." I didn't want to be rude, but I had no idea what she'd said, so I cut to the chase. "Is Bill Compton around?"

That seemed to do the trick, because there was a click, another ring, and then, suddenly, a voice I recognized. "Hello?"

"Bill?"

"Sookie?"

He sounded surprised. I couldn't blame him. We hadn't parted on the best terms.

I wouldn't have called him if I'd had other options.

Silence fell. We'd established that we were in fact talking to each other. Now, I just had to figure out what to say.

I wanted to ask Bill a favor, but first I needed to know if he'd been affected by the curse. I couldn't ask directly, in case someone was listening to the call. Worrying about eavesdroppers made me feel paranoid, but, on the other hand, I would rather be paranoid than dead.

I settled on, "How are you?" Under normal circumstances it would have been an inappropriate question. Vampires' health never varied.

There was an awkward pause. Finally, Bill said, "I am the same."

If I hadn't been so exhausted, I might have done a happy dance. _Bill was the same._ Meaning, he was still dead.

Of course, he could also be lying. What did I expect him to say? _Sookie, I'm under the weather—I've come down with a pulse._

Yeah, right.

"Sookie, are you all right?" Bill sounded concerned. He probably figured I'd know better than to ask such an obtuse question. Or maybe he'd picked up on my anxiety. I'd been trying to hide it, but he knew me pretty well.

I took a breath and jumped into the deep end. Actually, it was more like the deep end of the deep end, because if I wasn't in the deep end already, I didn't want to know where I was headed. "Look," I said. "I'm sorry to do this, but something terrible has happened and we need you in Louisiana."

Bill was quiet for a moment. "We?"

Shoot. I'd meant to say 'me,' but the plural had slipped out. I didn't want to say Eric's name out loud, so I settled on, "It's a big mess," and hoped that Bill understood I couldn't tell him more over the phone.

There was another long pause. "What kind of mess?"

I didn't say anything. Silence seemed like the only safe way to communicate the magnitude of the current shit storm.

Bill was quiet. I hoped he was thinking. I hated asking him to drop everything without a providing a reason. I hated dragging him into this mess period. But we needed help and I didn't have other options. I would have told him more if I could.

"I'll leave tonight," Bill said, finally.

A mix of emotions hit me. I was grateful that Bill was backing me up, relieved we'd have an ally, exhausted at the thought of seeing him again, and, on some level, excited too.

I let out a breath I hadn't known I'd been holding. "Thank you."

Whatever problems Bill and I had, he'd come through for me.

"You're welcome," he said.

Silence fell.

"Are you flying Anubis?" It was the best way I could think to triple check if he was still undead. I couldn't imagine that Bill would have agreed to come home if he'd been cursed, but there was no harm in being extra sure.

Another pause. "Should I not be?"

"No. Anubis is great. Do you need an airport pickup?" I regretted the words as soon as they were out of my mouth. It was a knee-jerk polite thing, but since Eric was currently dumping my car by the side of the highway, I could do squat for Bill if he took me up on my offer.

I was relieved when he said, "I'll have them deliver my coffin to your home."

On second thought, "Better make it yours." I didn't want to surprise Eric and Pam. "We'll talk when you wake up."

"Whatever you say," I could hear the curiosity in Bill's voice. There was more he wanted to ask. There was more I wanted to tell him too, but the phone was not the way to do it.

Bill was quiet for a moment, as if he were thinking. "You know if there's trouble you can always go to Eric."

Hm, how to tackle that one?

"Uh, yeah," I said. "He's been appraised."

"Okay."

Silence again.

Hearing Eric's name made me think of a second unreasonable request. I tried to figure out the best way to approach it. "The Queen sent you to Peru, right?" I'd learned to stay away from questions about vampire business, but Bill had told me as much before he left.

"She has taken an interest in my research, yes." He sounded cautious.

"Can you wait to let her know you're home? Until we talk?"

Silence from Bill.

"I don't mean to get in your business. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

If Eric missed his meeting in New Orleans (as he almost certainly would) and the Queen heard Bill was back in Area 5 to clean up 'a mess,' it wouldn't take much for her to put two and two together. I didn't know this woman from Adam, but I figured she hadn't become Queen by not noticing things.

The line was quiet just long enough to make me wonder if Bill had hung up, then he said, "I'll tell her I'm coming home because I miss you."

I didn't know what to say. Something twisted in the pit of my stomach—discomfort and anticipation rolled together. "Tell her whatever you want. But after we talk. In person."

Quiet. Then finally, "All right, Sookie."

Silence. Again.

"If that's all?" Bill said.

"Yes." I felt hamstrung by the phone.

"Then I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good. Tomorrow." There was another uncomfortable pause, during which I remembered my manners. "Oh, and Bill?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks."

He was quiet. I imagined him smiling.

"Anytime, Sookie." He hung up.

I placed the phone back in the holder and let out a long sigh.

Talking to Bill had made me feel like crap. When we'd broken up, I'd put my emotions in a nice little box. Now, they were fighting to get out.

But it had to be done.

If anything provoked Eric to murder me, this would be it.

Eric had been clear from the beginning: no vampires. But a vampire was exactly what he needed—specifically a vampire to deal with the Queen. Eric had to find someone to stall her until we broke the curse. Eric would miss his meeting in New Orleans tomorrow night. There was no way around it. But if Bill went to New Orleans in Eric's place, even a day late, he might be able to buy us time.

I could have tried to find a candidate for "vampire ambassador" closer to home, but since we hadn't heard a peep from any of the other Area 5 vamps, my guess was that they'd fallen prey to the curse and were lying low, thinking they were the only ones affected.

I was beginning to think that the curse had been geographically focused. We knew for a fact that all four vampires in Fangtasia had turned human and there was no reason to think the spell stopped at the bar's walls. If the curse had been limited to Area 5, say, or to all vampires within a certain radius of Shreveport, then it made sense that Bill, abroad in Peru, was safe. Everything he'd said in our conversation seemed to suggest that was the case.

Say I was wrong, and the other Area 5 vampires were still happily undead? I still didn't want to ask for their help. Why? I didn't trust them. And neither did Eric and Pam, or they would be at one of their homes and not mine. Maybe some were reliable, but I didn't know them well enough to judge for myself, and I wasn't prepared to make the leap of faith when the outcome mattered so badly.

I might not want to date Bill, but I trusted him. Plus, Eric had saved Bill in Jackson so Bill owed him. He owed the both of us, really. I couldn't think of any other vampire who would help Eric, except maybe Eric's maker, but every time I brought up that idea, Eric shut down quicker than power service during a hurricane.

Of course, Eric probably wouldn't see it my way. No vampires, he'd said. He hadn't even wanted to call Pam when he thought he'd been the only ex-vamp. I wasn't looking forward to breaking the news to him. I hoped calling Bill wasn't a mistake, but I didn't know what else to do. The Queen wasn't going away on her own. Eric needed a vampire go-between like toast needed butter. If Eric didn't accept Bill's help, he'd be toast himself.

That was a fact.

A knock on the front door jerked me out of my head and back to reality. As I walked into the hall, the knock turned into a regular pounding. I felt a stab of fear. An angry guest was just what I needed. What if it was Hadley's psycho ex-husband with a sawed-off shotgun?

But, as I neared the door, I felt a familiar thought pattern.

I relaxed.

Eric was wondering how to convince me to give him a key.

"It's not happening," I said automatically, as I opened the door, remembering too late that it wasn't wise to respond to things I picked out of his thoughts.

Eric looked taken aback, but he recovered quickly. "It would be easier for both of us."

I couldn't reply. I was too busy gawking at him. He was covered in mud. His jeans were caked in it. His shirt was smeared with dirt, and something darker. I wondered what it was, then decided I was better off not knowing.

Eric noticed me staring. He smirked.

I frowned. "What?"

"Like what you see?"

It was all I could do to not roll my eyes. "Not really." He was covered in muck and god knew what else. That being said, he seemed to be in a good mood. I hadn't seen Eric's smirk out in full force since he'd turned human. Apparently hiding a body made him feel like his old self.

I didn't want to think about that too closely.

"Whatever you say, Sookie," he said, as if he didn't quite believe me. Then, he pushed past me into the house.

"Eric, stop." I didn't want him tracking mud on my clean floors.

It was like talking to a post, for all the attention I got. He disappeared into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him.

Of course, he left a trail of muddy footprints all the way.

Behind me, I heard another door slam. I turned around. Pam was locking Bill's sedan, which she'd parked in my driveway.

"You stole Bill's car?" I said.

"Eric is his Sheriff," Pam said, as if that was any explanation.

Pam started toward the front door. As she got closer, I could see she was as bedraggled as Eric. Pam was wearing one of my dresses. When she'd taken it out of my closet, it had been white. Now it was brown. I'd have a hell of a time getting the stains out.

I opened my mouth to give her a piece of my mind, but Pam's expression made me reconsider. She was the picture of exhaustion. Whatever Eric's pick-me-up had been, it hadn't trickled down to her. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," said Pam, but she didn't look it.

I tried a different tack. "Can I get you anything?"

She was quiet for a second. Then, "Maybe some food."

I didn't say a word. I knew it wasn't easy for her to ask. I nodded and motioned her inside.

As soon as Pam stepped over the threshold, I heard water switch on in the bathroom. Eric was in the shower.

Thank god. No more muddy footprints and at least five minutes of peace. Maybe when he got out, he'd clean up the mess he'd made in my hall. Or maybe hell would freeze over. I thought about leaving a mop outside the bathroom door as a hint.

Before I could act on that impulse, Pam gave me a significant look. I couldn't puzzle out what she meant by it. Maybe she wanted to shower as well. Her hair hung in muddy rattails and her black eye had blossomed into a full fledged shiner. She probably needed a cold compress. Maybe some Advil. My medicine was in the bathroom with Eric. He could have been gallant and let Pam use the shower first, but, of course, he hadn't.

"You can use my bathroom, if you want," I said.

Pam shook her head no, nodded at the hall bathroom—where Eric's shower was still going strong—then pointed at the kitchen. I started feeling apprehensive. Like I was about to land in the middle of something I didn't want to get into.

Against my better judgment, I followed her. She shut the kitchen door behind us.

"He can't go to New Orleans."

"He wants to?" The Eric I knew wasn't suicidal.

"He says New Orleans has better witches."

Normally I wasn't one for big city snobbery, but I was inclined to agree with him. I'd never heard of any Shreveport-area witches, and while that didn't mean they didn't exist, New Orleans was the city of Marie Laveau. It had a reputation.

"He thinks we can't stop the Queen sending someone to Area 5. He says we have to leave and she won't think to look under her own nose."

That argument made a kind of sense—if you were approaching our current problem with a perverse, danger-seeking mentality.

"He won't listen to me," Pam said. "He's going to get us killed."

Then she gave me the same significant look she'd leveled in the hall.

It took me a second or two to catch on. "You think he'd listen to me?" Pam had never struck me as delusional.

"I think you have leeway," she said.

Before I could ask what she meant, the water shut off. "Shit," I said. "He showers fast."

Pam scowled. "And at least three times a night."

I didn't know what to do with that tidbit except ignore, ignore. We didn't have time to discuss Eric's peculiarities. It would take all night, and then some.

"Quick." I nodded at the table. "I'm making you food."

Pam sat down. I cracked the door, ran to the stove, pulled out a pot, and grabbed the first thing I found in the cupboard, which turned out to be Quaker instant grits. Gran would roll over in her grave if she knew I was stocking it, let alone serving it to guests. Not only was it instant grits—it was instant Yankee grits. But it couldn't be helped. And it wasn't as if Pam knew the difference.

Eric appeared in the doorway. He had wrapped a towel around himself, thank god, but it didn't leave much to the imagination. I flushed. And stared. I'd seen most of Eric before—and as my body was quick to remind me, done a little more than see—but the view didn't get boring. I'd have given a prize to any woman able to look away. I don't like to think of myself as shallow—someone who would want a man just because he was beautiful—but in that moment I had trouble thinking of anything but Eric. Wet from the shower. Dripping.

All over my hardwood floor.

A puddle grew at his feet. He held his muddy clothes in one hand.

Apparently, annoyance was an antidote to lust.

"The washer's down the hall." He might consider me his telepath, but I sure as hell wasn't his maid.

Eric held up his cell phone. He did not look pleased. He was too pissed to notice my reaction to him, thank god. "Sookie, why do I have a voicemail from Bill Compton?"

I concentrated on my poker face. "Well, did you listen to it? Maybe Bill says."

Eric didn't appreciate my sarcasm. "He says he cut his vacation short."

Damn. I'd had no idea that Bill would call Eric. Apparently I'd underestimated the demands of vampire hierarchy. I wondered if Bill could wipe his ass without running it by Eric first. Immediately, I felt rotten for thinking something so uncharitable. Bill hadn't done anything wrong. I was mad because I'd wanted to tell Eric myself when the time was right. Realistically, there was never going to be a good time. There was no way out but the truth.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

"I asked Bill to come home," I said.

Eric's face went blank.

He was furious.


	10. Bedfellows

There was a closed door between Eric and me. After what had happened in the kitchen, I wanted to keep it that way. But as the Stones say, you can't always get what you want. Too often, you can't even get what you need. For instance, I needed a nap. Instead, I had to talk Eric off a cliff.

Eric had shut himself inside my childhood bedroom. I was hovering outside the door like an idiot, trying to defer the inevitable.

I took a deep breath and walked inside.

Eric was sitting on the bed. The room was dark. He hadn't bothered to turn on a light. I couldn't read his expression.

"I understand why you did what you did," he said, voice toneless.

That was good enough for me. In fact, it was a hell of a lot better than I'd expected.

"I'm making Pam food." It wasn't much, but it was an olive branch. Eric and I were stuck together. We might as well make nice.

Silence from Eric. Then, "I'll talk with you later."

On a normal day, I'd be happy to leave him to his own devices, but he wasn't making his life—or mine—any easier by starving himself. "You'll run yourself into the ground."

He looked at me.

I've seen Eric pissed. I'd seen him upset. But in that moment, I was honestly scared that he would hurt me. He hadn't moved—but I knew he could, if he wanted. And I knew I didn't want to be there when he did.

"Go," he said.

I went.

I wasn't sure what he would have done if I'd stayed.

I didn't want to find out.

I shut the door.

I'd been expecting a screaming match. Instead I'd gotten a standoff. Had I won? I didn't know. Bill was coming. I guess that was a victory.

By the same token, I'd be a fool if I thought Eric would forget our fight.

His attitude pissed me off, not least because I'd been trying to help him. Did he think I enjoyed calling my ex? That it was going to be a picnic for me when Bill showed up? Would the inevitable bickering between Bill and Eric be music to my ears?

Of course not.

Eric didn't seem to notice that he wasn't the only one in a difficult situation. Or maybe he noticed and just didn't care.

In the kitchen, when I'd first told Eric that I called Bill, I'd hoped for a conversation. Instead, I'd gotten a staring contest.

Eric had confronted me and I'd told him the truth: "I asked Bill to come home."

For a second, he looked like he wanted to kill me. The thought flashed through his head. Then he wiped his face, and his mind, and gave me a good, long look. It was as though he was sizing me up, trying to figure me out. It was wasted effort, because I wasn't hiding anything. The truth was the best defense. I hadn't liked going behind Eric's back, but I didn't have another option. He would have never agreed to ask Bill for help.

"Why?" he said, finally.

"You need a vampire to hold off the Queen."

Eric studied me for another moment. Then, he walked out of the room.

I watched him go. When I turned around, Pam was watching me. "Bill spent thirty years in the Queen's court."

"I trust him." I didn't like how defensive I sounded.

"You're sweet." Pam smiled, and it wasn't very nice.

* * *

><p>Eric had left his muddy clothes in a pile by the bedroom door and a wet towel in the shower. I gathered it up and stuffed it in the washer. Picking up after Eric pissed me off, but if I didn't do it, no one would. I'd rather be taken advantage of than let him turn my house into a pigsty. Besides, he didn't have other clothes and I was sure to get into trouble if I let him walk around naked.<p>

With that image in my head, I dug through the closet in Jason's old room until I found a pair of athletic shorts. They must have been part of his football warm-ups. "Bon Temps Falcons" was printed across the right leg. Jason was a big guy, but Eric was bigger, so I wasn't sure that the shorts would fit. But they were the best I could find. The waist was elastic, so hopefully my honored houseguest would be able to squeeze them over his infuriatingly nice backside.

The door to my old bedroom was still closed, which was fine, because I didn't want to see Eric. I hung the shorts on the doorknob and hoped he'd figure it out. Or he could walk around naked, for all I cared, and I'd find myself a blindfold. I was through taking care of him.

For someone aged 1000, Eric spent a lot of time acting like a child.

Afterwards, I fixed Pam instant grits, explained she could season them with hot sauce or butter, then called the Bon Temps police to report my car stolen. Poor Kevin had the overnight shift. He was nice enough to say that I could wait until morning to swing by the station and file a report. I was just grateful I didn't have to do it immediately. It was past 11 p.m. and I'd been ready for bed since noon.

But there's never any rest for the weary. As soon as I got off the phone with Kevin, I dug a mop and a bucket out of the basement and started clearing the mess Eric had left in the front hall. It took me a good 20 minutes and I had to get down on my hands and knees to scrub his muddy footprints. Then, I switched Eric's clothes to the dryer and returned to the kitchen to find Pam's dirty dishes in the sink. I rinsed them, dried them, put them away, and was on my way to my room when I heard hushed voices behind Eric's door.

I kept walking. I didn't have the energy to deal with them.

At least they were talking to each other.

Someone had taken Jason's shorts off the doorknob, thank goodness.

Once in my room, I undressed, threw on a robe, beelined to my bathroom, and walked into the best hot shower of my life. I felt like I'd been awake for a day straight. A week straight. A whole year. I didn't want to think about anything except how nice the water felt, but my mind kept drifting to Bill.

I knew that Bill had worked for the Queen. He'd told me himself, although to be fair, I hadn't thought about that history when I called him. I understood why Pam was worried, but even so, something in my gut told me Bill was trustworthy. I didn't think it was just wishful thinking. Bill had never expressed any particular affection for the Queen, while he'd told me time and again that Eric was a good Sheriff. Plus, I'd like to think that our past relationship counted for something—wherever we might stand now.

Maybe Pam was right. Maybe I was being naïve. But I just couldn't believe that Bill would betray us. Especially at a time like this when we really needed his help.

I turned off the water. The shower didn't feel as nice now that reality had intruded.

I threw on a robe, ran a comb through my hair, and walked back into my room.

I yelped.

Pam was lying in my bed. Covers pulled up to her neck. Her hair was wet. At least she'd showered before she jumped between my sheets. She must have used the hall bathroom. I hoped she'd picked up her towel. Unlike someone.

"Eric's bed is too small for two," Pam said, by way of explanation.

That's what I got for putting Eric in my childhood twin.

I crossed my arms around myself. I was wearing a robe, but I felt too close to naked for comfort. "I'll make up the guest bedroom." Jason's old room was upstairs. The bed was another twin, a double of the one I'd put Eric in, but it was serviceable.

Pam acted like she didn't hear me. I stared her down and finally she said, "I would rather not be alone." Her tone was matter-of-fact. She might have been talking about the weather. But I could see she meant it.

Why did I feel guilty? My room was my space. "Pam, I'm—"

"Tired," she said. "I know."

Pam looked so exhausted, I remembered that I wasn't the only one having a bad day. Now that I thought about it, I could even consider myself lucky. After all, I hadn't had to hide a body. I hadn't been covered in mud. I didn't have a black eye. For the first time in over a century.

I wasn't a vampire who had inexplicably turned human.

And I wasn't the only woman in this house mothering Eric.

I felt a sinking sensation. "Pam, if I let you stay—"

She smiled. She'd won, and she knew it. "Yes?"

"Don't try anything." I trusted Pam. I just didn't trust her to keep her hands to herself.

She looked me up and down, then gave me a toothy grin. She looked like her old self. She was only missing the fangs. I was not thrilled that there was only a robe between her and all of me.

"Don't worry, Sookie," Pam said. "Eric would not approve."

I didn't have the energy to think about what she meant by that. I'd been planning to wear a nightgown, but the new sleeping arrangements necessitated more layers. I grabbed sweatpants and a ratty t-shirt out of my drawer. "I'm changing in the bathroom."

And that's what I did. When I came back, Pam hadn't moved.

She watched me as I brushed my hair and took out my earrings. The silence was creeping me out, so I brought up Pam's favorite subject. "How is he?"

"Not good."

Well, that was a conversation starter.

Pam drove the talk in a direction I didn't want to explore. "Bill's first loyalty is not to Eric."

"You understand that he'll buy us time."

"If he does as he's told."

I slipped in beside her. It felt weird lying next to someone. The last person who'd slept by me was Bill. On the pillow where Pam was currently lying.

She rolled over to face me. "Thank you, Sookie."

I nodded. I couldn't meet her gaze. I felt uncomfortable. I didn't know if it was the memories of Bill or having Pam so close. Not just close—in my bed. With the ex-vamp invasion of my home, my bed was the one space where I thought I could count on being alone. "Just stay on your side."

I reached over and turned off the light.

I could hear Pam breathing in the darkness.

I felt a little guilty for being abrupt when she'd given me a rare thank you, so I decided to close our conversation on a more positive note. Never go to bed angry, and all that. I scrounged around for something harmless to talk about. I was so tired my brain felt like Swiss cheese. Full of holes.

"How did you like the grits?"

Dead silence from Pam. Then, "You have many talents besides cooking."

From her, that was basically a compliment.

* * *

><p>When I woke up, sun was streaming through the window and someone was nuzzling the back of my head.<p>

Goddamn Pam.

I moved to brush her away, but before I could, she threw an arm across me and pulled me close. It felt nice, then even nicer as her hand snaked up my leg, knee to thigh. Pam slid her hand between my legs and I remembered belatedly that I wasn't a lesbian. That being said, my body was shaping up to be more broadminded than I'd previously imagined.

"Pam, quit." I swatted her hand out of the way, realizing a second too late how big it was.

Too big.

"Not Pam."

I would have bolted out of bed if Eric hadn't tightened his arm around me. He might be human, but he was still as strong as—well—a Viking. His grip felt like a vise. I wondered how I could have ever missed the part of him that seemed to be liking our closeness as much as I had been, just seconds before.

Dear god, I hoped he was wearing Jason's shorts.

Eric's lips brushed my ear. "Don't go behind my back again." His tone was casual, but I could feel the edge underneath. He didn't have to say _or else._ It was pretty damn clear.

My skin stopped tingling.

I wanted out.

I struggled and, of course, Eric tightened his grip. He had run out of threats, but he didn't give me breathing room. He was close enough I could feel his stubble. Now that he was human, his beard had started to grow.

Eric dropped a kiss on the side of my throat. Right at the pulse point. I don't know how he managed to make something so gentle feel like a threat.

Then he was out of my bed and in the doorjamb.

"Good morning, Sookie."

He favored me with a brilliant smile and left, shutting the door behind him.

No shorts.

I'd have to wash my sheets.

I got out of bed and locked the door. Then, I walked to my bathroom, locked the door, and got in the shower. I started to scrub. My heart was pounding so fast, the steam made me feel faint.


	11. Chicken

After my shower, I got dressed with so much violence I almost ripped my t-shirt. I wasn't frightened anymore. I was pissed. I didn't want to see Eric again. Ever. I would've kicked him out if I thought there was any chance he'd actually leave.

Or that he wouldn't be killed within a few days.

I'd always been wary of Eric, but I'd also liked him. More or less. He made me laugh almost as much as he made me cringe. He put me in danger, but he didn't leave me hanging. He'd helped me in Jackson after I'd been staked. Then, he'd leveraged the situation into my bed.

My appreciation of him was beginning to feel naive.

I didn't want Eric to die, but I wanted him out of my life. Unfortunately, it seemed like the quickest way to get rid of him was to help him. Which meant I couldn't kick him out. Yet.

But my gracious hostess days were over.

I needed breakfast. I was hungry and angry, which is never a good combination. Plus, considering Eric's distaste for solid food, the kitchen was the one place I'd be sure to avoid him.

Maybe, if I were lucky, he'd starve himself to the point of passing out. I felt uncharitable wishing him pain, but an unconscious Eric would be a hell of a lot easier to deal with than the current version.

So when I walked into the kitchen to find Eric eating cold chicken with a knife, I had to force myself not to walk straight out. I wouldn't be a fugitive inside my own home.

I did the only reasonable thing: I told myself he didn't exist and started to make coffee.

"Sookie."

It speaks.

I ignored him. I felt like a jerk, but I justified it by reminding myself that he pretended not to hear me all the time.

"Sookie." My back was to him, but I heard him get out of his chair. I thought about running, but he was beside me before I could take a step. I could feel his eyes on me. I looked anywhere but him. I waited for him to say something, all the while regretting that I'd stayed in the kitchen when I'd had a chance to leave.

Eric tossed a wallet on the counter. It was caked with mud.

As much as I wanted to ignore him, he'd piqued my interest. "What's this?"

"See for yourself," he said, and returned to the table.

I picked up the wallet. Flipped it open. The witch's face stared up at me from an Arkansas driver's license.

I slid the license out of its sleeve. "Marnie Stonebrook." I'd been expecting a name like Maleficent. Marnie sounded ordinary. Almost too ordinary. But, then again, a name didn't tell you much about a person. As far as names went, 'Eric,' 'Pam,' and 'Bill' were about as white bread as it got.

Eric cut himself some chicken and ate it, using his knife as a fork. "Look in the billfold."

I did. No cash. I wondered if Eric had found it like that.

There was a business card for a motel outside Shreveport.

"After breakfast you will take me," he said.

Like hell. It was an hour to Shreveport and an hour back. I wasn't about to spend that much time trapped in a car with him.

"Pam and I will go." I sure as hell wasn't going by myself, in case the witch's brother was still around. "We'll take the gun."

He didn't like that idea, go figure. "Sookie—"

"I'm sorry," I cut him off. "Do you want my help or not?"

Being short with him wasn't smart, but thankfully, he backed off. He seemed to realize that he'd crossed some sort of line.

Better late than never.

"You and Pam will go," he repeated, as if it had been his idea.

"Never sneak into my room again," I said. "I don't care how angry you are. Talk to me like a person."

Eric acted like he hadn't heard and cut himself more chicken.

Silence fell.

I had to stand there like a doofus until my coffee finished brewing. I poured myself a cup, then left. Eric didn't look at me once.

It wasn't the best exit in the universe, but at least I'd gotten something off my chest. I felt better, until I realized that I'd forgotten the food part of breakfast in my haste to leave. If I wanted to eat, I'd have to face him again.

I dithered around my room, drinking coffee, stalling, and, in general, hyping myself up. When my stomach growled, I finally decided to stop being ridiculous.

By the time I got back to the kitchen, Eric was gone. But he'd put the chicken back in the fridge and rinsed his knife.

It was sitting in the drying rack, spotless.

* * *

><p>"This is not the motel," Pam said as I pulled off I-49, just south of Shreveport proper.<p>

"I know." I pulled into a lot and parked next to a very massive—and very familiar—Dodge Ram pickup. "I'll be ten minutes."

I had called Alcide Herveaux as soon as Eric mentioned Shreveport. Since the witch was a were, I wanted to ask if he'd heard anything about her. I hated to involve Alcide in Eric's mess, even peripherally, but I thought he deserved a heads up too. There was nothing to say that the witch had only planned to target vampires. She might be dead, but her brother was still a threat. Alcide should be on his guard.

Plus, after dealing with Eric, I was looking forward to a conversation with someone who treated me like a normal human being.

When I'd called, Alcide had sounded as happy to hear from me as I was to talk to him. He gave me directions to his office in Shreveport.

"Eric would not be pleased," Pam said, when I told her that I was visiting Alcide.

I told Pam exactly how much Eric's pleasure meant to me. She laughed and waved me out of the car. "You're something else, Sookie."

"Don't talk to strangers," I said.

Alcide's office was inside a sizable one-story building. There was a line of pickup trucks out front, which made sense, since his family ran a contracting company. As I got closer, I noticed that his family seemed to own the whole building, as well as the pickups. Each had "Herveaux Contracting" stamped on the side.

I was suddenly very aware of my old T-shirt and jeans. I wasn't dressed for a business meeting. When I stepped inside, the receptionist gave me the stink eye. She didn't think much of my outfit either. When I asked for Alcide, she was noticeably surprised, but she had to page him. He appeared out of the back office almost immediately, and pulled me into a hug. A big one. With Alcide, everything's big. He's a tall guy, and a strong one, and he has big curls that never seem able to lie flat on his head. I came up to his chest, and I took full advantage of the opportunity to rest my head on it. As I relaxed in his arms, I was almost able to forget that I had two ex-vamps to babysit.

The receptionist wondered how long Alcide and I had been having an affair. It kind of spoiled the moment.

"Hey," Alcide said, as we broke apart. He'd wrapped his fingers in my hair. "Come on back."

Alcide opened the door to the office and ushered me into a hallway. A handful of guys in hardhats were chatting inside, and they stepped out of the way to let us pass.

Alcide led me to a door at the end of the hall. His name was on the front. He walked inside and planted himself behind a desk. His desk. There were stacks of important-looking papers and his phone was blinking. Someone was waiting for him to take their call.

I felt self-conscious, like I was taking up too much of his time. But then I saw the big smile on his face and relaxed.

"It's good to see you," he said.

"Same." I was smiling too. I couldn't help it.

Alcide's smile faltered. He ran his hands through his hair. He seemed nervous. "Listen, Sookie, I've been wanting to talk to you. That night in Jackson—"

I knew what he was going to say before he finished. Alcide was trying to apologize for leaving me in Club Dead. His thoughts were tinged with remorse, and he was struggling to find the right words.

I didn't want to think about that night any more than I had to. "It's okay." Or mostly okay. I could hardly blame Alcide for what had happened with Bill. "You couldn't help it."

"Still," he said.

I reached across the desk and squeezed his hand. He ran his thumb over my mine, absently. It felt nice. I could have sat like that for a while. But time was a luxury I didn't have. As much as I wanted to linger, I couldn't leave Pam in the car forever.

I cut to the chase. "Do you know a Marnie Stonebrook?"

Alcide shook his head. "No bells."

"She's a were. And a witch."

He looked concerned. "What've you gotten mixed up in, Sookie?"

I'd been asking myself the same question. "It's safer if you don't know details. Just watch out and let me know if you hear anything."

"I've never heard of weres being witches." Alcide's face darkened. "Witches are humans who want a little something extra. Weres have enough magic as is."

"Too bad Marnie doesn't agree."

Alcide studied me, then, out of the blue, asked, "This Marnie's been bothering the vamps?"

I opened my mouth, then shut it. I didn't know what to say. I wanted to tell Alcide the truth. He'd help me. He'd have my back, unless the vamps found out and killed him for knowing their secret. If I unburdened, I'd only put him in danger.

I couldn't tell Alcide anything, no matter how much I might want to. I tried to keep up a poker face, but something must have shown through because Alcide said, "Goddamn it, Sookie. Wherever you go a bloodsucker's not far behind." There was more than a little bitterness in his voice. He added a belated, "No offense."

"Don't worry about it." My voice sounded more tart that usual.

"And now that you're back with Bill—"

"Who told you that?"

"You aren't?" He looked surprised. Hopeful, even.

"We broke up a month ago." Before I could wonder where Alcide was getting his information, I heard it is his head. I should have known.

"You're back with Debbie?"

"No." He looked ashamed of himself. "Well. Not really."

Alcide and I were friendlier than friends ought to be, but I was never going to let what we had grow into something more until he was clear of Debbie Pelt. It was too bad that day didn't look to be getting any closer.

"Whatever she told you, she was lying." I wasn't surprised. The worst part was that he wasn't either.

"I'm sorry, Sookie." Alcide looked so remorseful, my heart softened a little. "Guess I should know better."

Yes, he should. But he didn't need me to tell him that.

"Feels like all I'm doing today is apologizing," he said, with a rueful smile

After that, we wrapped up. Alcide said he'd ask his packmaster about Marnie and he promised he'd be in touch if he learned anything. He made me promise to call him if I was in trouble. I agreed, because I doubted that he'd have let me leave if I didn't. We hugged goodbye and I enjoyed it more than I should have. Alcide offered to walk me to my car, but I declined, thinking of Pam.

Pam must have noticed something, because when I got back to the car, she asked, "He's tall, your were?"

"He's not mine."

She just smirked.

* * *

><p>The motel was a ways off I-20. The nice chains—Best Western, Super 8—were close to the highway. In general, the further from the interstate, the more rundown the accommodations.<p>

Pam directed me onto a street dotted with used car dealerships. "This is it." She held up the card from the witch's wallet. "Caddo Motel."

The Caddo was a one-story motel, built around a parking lot. There were about 20 rooms and a handful of cars, all busted clunkers. Bill's well-kept sedan stood out, which made me nervous. I pulled in, circled the lot, and parked next to the exit.

"You've got the gun?" I asked Pam, and she tapped her purse.

"I'm coming with you," she said, and got out of the car without waiting for my reply.

I was glad that Pam wasn't planning to sit tight. I didn't want to face the witch's brother alone, and I figured the chances of anyone here recognizing Pam were slim to none, especially since she was wearing one of my church dresses. It was flowered and modest, basically the opposite of her goth-chic Fangtasia uniform. On the whole, it made her look really young. If she were a customer at Merlotte's, I would have carded her. I realized that anyone seeing the two of us would assume I was older.

We started towards the front office. Halfway there, an idea struck me. "Pam, lend me one of your rings."

Left to her own devices, Pam was a no-nonsense dresser, a khaki and sweater set kind of girl, but she usually wore a few simple gold rings. God bless her, Pam didn't even ask why I wanted one. She eased one off her hand and passed it to me. I jammed it onto my ring finger. Left hand.

The bell rang as we walked into the front office. An old lady glanced up from behind the desk. She looked me up and down. My reception couldn't have been more different than Alcide's office. Here, my ratty jeans and T-shirt were an asset. I didn't stand out from the usual clientele. "Stonebrook staying here?"

"Who's asking?" she said, but I heard the answer in her head. Yes, and Room 18.

I flashed my ring. "Fiancé."

"He's here with a woman." Her thoughts were full of sympathy, which was refreshing.

"Tall lady?"

"That was yesterday," she said. "Today, she's French."

Pam and I looked at each other. She didn't have any more of a clue than I did. "The tall girl's his sister," I said, fishing for more information.

"He ain't got a French sister." The woman handed me the key for Room 18. "Bring that back when you're finished with him."

I told the woman thanks, elbowed Pam until she said thanks, and walked out of the office.

Number 18 was at the end of the row of rooms.

The parking lot was deserted except for the motel maid, who was piling clean towels on a handcart. She was about my age and had a Windex bottle hanging from the loop of her jeans. She was in street clothes. This motel wasn't the kind of place that invested in uniforms.

The maid walked inside Room 12, leaving her cart unattended. As we passed, Pam grabbed it. She started pushing it towards the witch's brother's room. "Hey," I said, but Pam ignored me.

I heard footfalls behind me, and turned around to see the maid. "What the hell?"

"Give us one sec," I said, trying to think an explanation. I was coming up with zilch.

Pam rapped on the door of Room 18. "Housekeeping."

"What the fuck?" The maid was pissed. I couldn't blame her.

Pam didn't spare us a second glance. "Housekeeping," she repeated, and started pounding on the door.

No response.

"Sookie, key," she said, and I tossed it to her.

"My fiancé's been cheating," I told the maid. I felt rotten lying, but it seemed to mollify her. "Sorry about the cart."

I was instantly forgiven. "Forget it," she said. I appreciated the sympathy. "Men are dogs."

I thought of Alcide and suppressed a smile.

Pam unlocked the door. She stepped inside, then stuck her head out, and waved me over. I said goodbye to the maid and joined her.

The room was dark. Shades drawn. The bed was rumpled, but otherwise, there was no sign of life. The witch's brother didn't seem to be in, but he couldn't have gone far, because his luggage was on the dresser. Clothes spilled out of the open bag. A pair of cowboy boots stood at the foot of his bed. "He left without shoes?" I said.

"Sookie." Pam pointed at the nightstand.

The bedside lamp lay on the floor. Shade knocked off. Light bulb shattered.

I knew the signs of struggle when I saw them, thanks to _Law and Order_.

Pam took the gun out of her purse. She walked into the bathroom. Switched on the light.

The witch's brother lay in the bathtub, tangled in the shower curtain. I couldn't see his wounds, but I knew from the color of his skin that he was dead.


	12. Memory Lane

I opened my mouth to scream, but someone beat me to it. I wheeled around. The maid stood in the doorway, hollering. Her eyes were glued to the corpse.

I had no idea what to do.

Thank god for Pam.

"Police." She flashed the gun. "Out. This is a crime scene."

Pam's lie cured my stupor. As she turned back to the body, I hustled the maid towards the door. My mind was moving just fast enough to keep the lies flowing. "We're plainclothes." What did they say on _Law & Order_? "We'll call for backup. The perp may still be on the premises. Get in your car and go."

"But I don't have a car." The maid looked terrified. "I take the bus."

I felt like a jerk scaring her, even though it was for her own good. The less she saw, the better. "You'll be okay." I squeezed her shoulder, in what I hoped was a comforting gesture. "Go."

She didn't need to be told twice. Without another word, she was out the door. I'd left it ajar in my haste to meet Pam, which explained how she'd gotten inside in the first place.

I shut the door. Locked it. I pulled back the curtain and watched the maid hightail it across the parking lot to the main street.

She was gone.

When I returned to the bathroom, Pam was studying the corpse. "He's been dead for hours." She used the gun to lift the shower curtain tangled around his neck. The underside was stained red. I caught a glimpse of the wound underneath. My stomach turned.

"Jesus, Pam." I shut my eyes. I couldn't throw up. We had too much cleaning to do already.

"I thought you'd want to know." Her tone was matter-of-fact. It might have been small talk for all the emotion she put into it_. _Pam's detachment was chilling, but also, on some level, reassuring. This was rote for her. She knew what she was doing.

I felt better. Then, I felt bad feeling better. A man was dead. That shouldn't feel ordinary. Ever.

I wanted to keep my eyes closed, but that wasn't going to fly. When I finally worked up the courage to peel back my lids, Pam had moved the shower curtain back into place. Thank god. "Eric will be disappointed that you didn't let him come."

Eric was the last thing I wanted to think about. I pointed in the direction of the wound. Thankfully, the curtain covered the worst of it. "Could a vampire have done that?"

"Unlikely," she said. "The killer used a knife. One of us wouldn't need to."

Us. I was too on edge to correct her pronouns. If she wanted to think of herself as a vampire, that was her prerogative. "I'm going to search his luggage." I needed to get away from the corpse.

"I'm sure whoever killed him took anything of interest," Pam said, and I shrugged. She was probably right, but we wouldn't know until we looked. Plus, I had to get out of that bathroom.

I didn't want to leave fingerprints, so I found a pair of his socks and put them over my hands. I felt like a doofus and I didn't know how much good it would actually do, but it felt like better than nothing. That being said, my sock-gloves considerably slowed down the speed of the search.

If I'd been looking for boxers, plaid shirts, or white socks, I would have been rolling in it. As I wasn't, I found a whole lot of nothing. The only thing of note was his checkbook, buried at the bottom of the bag. I took it on the off chance there'd be a clue in the records—big deposits, that sort of thing. If someone had hired the witches to target Eric, there had to have been money involved.

I put the checkbook in my purse, glancing at the address first. The witch's brother had been named Mark Stonebrook.

Mark and Marnie. They sounded like a signing group.

The Stonebrooks hadn't done much to endear themselves to me in the short time we'd sort of known each other, but their deaths hardly seemed like fair ways to end. One hit by a car. One killed in a crummy motel room.

"Rest in peace," I said, because no one deserved to go like that.

"Sookie," Pam called from the bathroom. "Are you talking to yourself?"

"Uh."

Pam didn't wait for a more coherent reply, which was good, because I didn't want to admit to anything. "Get in here. I have something to show you."

I took a deep breath. I didn't want to go back into the bathroom, but I told myself not to be a baby and forced myself across the threshold.

Pam had used the gun to push the shower curtain away from Mark's feet. His ankles were bound with silver. "It's on his hands too."

Silver weakened weres. It didn't burn them, as it did vampires, but it was still a kryptonite of sorts. Whoever had killed the witch's brother had known that he was a supe. I'd never imagined that Mark's murder was accidental—a wrong place at the wrong time kind of scenario—but it was nice to get confirmation.

Well, maybe 'nice' wasn't the right word. There wasn't anything 'nice' about this situation.

As Pam nudged Mark's feet, something caught the light. I leaned closer. "Is that a necklace?" A pendant hung from the silver chain wrapped around his ankles.

"Give me one of those." Pam nodded at my hands. I realized that I was still wearing the sock-gloves.

I handed her one. She put it on and yanked. The chain snapped. The pendant came away in her hand.

It was a locket.

She popped it open.

Inside were two photographs: Gran and my Aunt Linda.

"You know them?" Pam asked.

It took me a second to realize she was asking generally. Not because she knew I knew.

"No," I lied. A chill went down my spine. "Never seen them before in my life."

* * *

><p>It took me ten minutes to realize my mistake. By that time, we were on the road.<p>

I'd called the police from the motel to report the murder. I hung up as soon as they asked who I was. I knew that the woman behind the front desk would tell the cops about Pam and me, but it couldn't be helped. Eric had contacts in the Shreveport police, so Pam couldn't let herself be questioned. As for me, I had no believable connection to Mark. I couldn't keep up the fiancé fiction. According to his checks, he was from Arkansas. Where had we met? Even if I managed to convince the cops we were engaged, Mark had been "cheating." If I pretended to be his fiancé, I'd give the police a suspect with motive, tied with a bow.

It would be easier if Pam and I disappeared.

I hoped the desk clerk hadn't taken a close enough look at Bill's car to give the police a description or, heaven forbid, his license plate number. When the cops found Mark, they'd know he'd been dead for hours and, hopefully, that we hadn't done it. If we were lucky, they'd spend their time looking for the French lady, whoever she was.

Hadley wasn't French.

But I couldn't explain why Hadley's silver necklace—_because who else would have those two photos?—_ had ended up on Mark Stonebrook's body.

I wasn't about to share my suspicions with Eric or Pam. They would attack Hadley first and ask questions later. No, I had to confront her myself. Hadley could be selfish and mean, but she wasn't a murderer. At least, the Hadley I knew hadn't been. There had to be an explanation. Other than the one staring me in the face.

Because why would Hadley have killed Mark Stonebrook?

It took ten minutes, but as we sped towards Bon Temps, I realized with a lurch that I'd made a mistake. A huge one. Possibly fatal.

I'd told Pam that I didn't recognize the women in the locket, but there were photographs of Gran all over my house. In the living room. In the hall. In my bedroom. There was even a big honking portrait hanging above Eric's bed. It was a photograph of a young Gran—Gran on her wedding day—but it was still recognizably her.

Pam hadn't noticed. But Eric had gone through my possessions. He must have seen the pictures. If either of them recognized Gran, they'd know that I'd lied to them.

It would lead them straight to Hadley.

And Bill. Oh god, Bill was coming home tonight. In a matter of hours, actually, since it was already afternoon. Bill had met Gran in person. I didn't think he would be as quick to hurt Hadley as Eric or Pam, but it would be far from good if he recognized her photograph.

"Sookie, are you all right?" I must have looked really upset, because Pam actually seemed concerned.

"I feel sick." I wasn't even lying. Fear had made me nauseous. As soon as Eric saw the locket, it was over. I had to talk to Hadley before he found out. I had to buy time. I pulled Bill's car into to the shoulder. My hands were shaking. "I need air. I'll be a minute."

I could feel Pam's eyes on my back as I got out of the car. I knew I was acting strangely, but I couldn't bring myself to care. We were on a long stretch of wooded highway. I walked to the tree line. When I couldn't see the car anymore, I took the locket out of my pocket and dropped it into the pine straw. I buried it with my foot.

Then, I took a deep breath.

When Pam asked, I'd pretend we'd lost it. Maybe we dropped it in Bill's car. Maybe we left it at the motel.

I felt like a horrible person.

If my life were a police show, I'd be destroying evidence. On television, cops got suspended for that. Eric would do much worse, if he found out.

I hated lying. But I didn't have other options. Eric and Pam put vampires first. I had to take care of my own family. Hadley could be a headache, but she was still blood.

I hoped to god she had an explanation.

Because why on earth would she have killed Mark Stonebrook?

When I'd gotten my heart rate under control, I walked back to the car. I was grateful to see Pam waiting in the driver's seat. I didn't think I could concentrate on the road on top of everything else. I got inside and passed her the keys.

"It gets easier," she said, as she started the car.

I realized she was talking about the corpse. Pam thought I was upset about Mark. She was trying to be kind.

If anything, it made me feel worse.

* * *

><p>Pam waited in the car while I popped into the Bon Temps Police Department to report my Malibu stolen. It frayed my nerves to visit a police station after fleeing a crime scene, but it couldn't be helped. I was happy to see Kevin, who was always kind to me, on-duty. I couldn't have stomached Andy's abrasiveness or Bud's suspicion. Not today.<p>

As I picked my way through forms, Kevin told me that he had good news. Kenya had found my car on a back road near Minden. "Some teenagers, on a joyride," he said, just as Eric had predicted. He said I could retrieve the car from impound tomorrow. "We probably won't catch them, but we're checking for evidence just the same."

"Thanks."

Kevin peered out the window. "I see you're using Vampire Bill's car."

I nodded.

"He's back in town?" What he really wanted to know was if we were back together.

"Just got in." I finished the forms fast as I could, smiled and left. I wasn't going to give Kevin any more information than that.

Nice or not, it wasn't his business.

* * *

><p>When Pam and I finally pulled into Hummingbird Lane, I felt like we'd been away for months. She seemed just as tired.<p>

"You should get some rest," I said.

I wasn't being nice. I had an ulterior motive. I wanted to postpone a discussion of the locket until I had a chance to talk with Hadley. I felt guilty stalling, but I didn't know what else to do.

"I have to talk to Eric," Pam said.

"I'll do it."

Her eyes narrowed. Suspicion.

I thought fast. "I'd rather he heard about Alcide from me."

"I wasn't going to say anything." She was lying.

"Sure, Pam," I said. "At any rate, I'm sick of fighting with him." I was sick to death of everything to do with him, to be honest.

She studied me. Finally, she said, "He will be glad to hear that."

Really? Because lately, it seemed like he lived to make my life hell.

There was an uncomfortable sort of silence. "Go on. Get some rest. Use my bed, if you want." I had a photograph of Gran on my bureau, but it was small, and sandwiched between larger ones of Jason and my parents. Pam wouldn't be thinking to look for it and I'd only draw attention if I tried to hide it.

"Okay." She threw in a rare, "Thank you," which made me feel rotten.

And that was that. We went inside, Pam to nap and I to find Eric.

Per usual, he wasn't easily found. Eric wasn't easily anything, these days. I poked my head in his room. He wasn't there, but he had made his bed. If I'd had energy to feel gratified, that would have done it.

I walked into the kitchen. Eric had put away his chicken knife. And he'd cleaned my coffee pot. The pieces lay dissembled, on the drip rack. Gleaming.

Somebody was on his best behavior.

"Your cousin's been calling," he said, behind me.

I yelped. "You startled me." In fact, he'd made me so jumpy, it took me a second to process what he'd said. "My cousin?" Hadley was the last thing I wanted Eric to be talking about, which, of course, explained why he was talking about her.

Eric smirked. He enjoyed getting a rise out of me. Ass. "She's phoned no less than four times. There's some kind of problem with your brother."

I was at the phone before he could say boo, dialing Jason's number.

Hadley picked up on the first ring. "Jason?"

"It's Sookie."

"Oh thank god," she said. "I've been calling and calling, leaving messages."

"I've been out. Where's Jason?"

"I don't know," Hadley said, and my heart just about stopped. "I was hoping you did. He hasn't been home the whole time I've been here."

I wondered how Hadley had gotten inside Jason's house if he wasn't around, but it seemed like the least important issue at hand. "Hadley, it's a work day."

Which reminded me. I was on the Merlotte's schedule tomorrow. Dear lord.

"His boss called this morning. Said he didn't show."

That didn't sound like Jason. He was pretty responsible about work. But if he was playing hooky, my guess was that he'd fallen into a love nest and forgotten to crawl out. "Have you tried his girlfriend?"

"She came by two hours ago, looking for him," Hadley said. "That's when I phoned you."

Jason worked through women on a rotating basis, so it was possible he was with a lady who was newer than his newest. He could also be avoiding Hadley. But, all of that aside, Jason wasn't the type to disappear without leaving word. I got that he wouldn't tell Hadley. But why not me? Or his boss, Catfish Hennessy?

I glanced at the clock. Almost 5 pm. I looked out the window. Light was fading. Bill would be awake in a matter of minutes. Anubis must have already dropped him off.

"I'll come as soon as I can," I said. "Probably in an hour. After dusk." After I talked with Bill. If I left his debriefing to Eric, I'd be courting disaster. Hopefully by then Jason would have crawled out from whatever California King-sized hole he'd fallen into.

Swinging by Jason's would also give me the opportunity to confront Hadley about the locket.

Was it possible that she'd lost it? Pawned it?

No. That was wishful thinking. The curse. The locket. Hadley's return. It was all too much of a coincidence.

I couldn't imagine what Hadley's explanation would be, but I really—really—hoped she had one. If I didn't like lying to Eric, I hated lying to Pam, who had been nothing but kind to me over the last few days.

"Call if anything changes. Do you have my cell number?"

Hadley said she didn't and I read it off to her. Then, we hung up.

I turned around to see Eric watching me. No rest for the weary.

"Crisis averted?" he asked.

"My brother's missing. He's probably with some woman, but—" I wouldn't let myself consider alternate possibilities. Not yet.

"Many people rely on you," Eric said.

I had to stop myself from frowning. It was a weird thing for him to say. I didn't know if it was a compliment or what, and if it was, why he was bothering. I didn't have the energy to puzzle him out, so I just said nothing.

"How was the motel?"

"It's a long story." I didn't want to think about the witch's brother. Let alone the locket. "Is Bill here?"

"The Anubis truck came by an hour ago."

"I should head over there." Not the least because I wanted to drop off Bill's sedan before he realized that Eric stole it. Anything I could do to smooth their inevitably bad first meeting. From Bill's, I'd swing by Hadley.

"I'll come," Eric said.

Surprise wouldn't even cover it. I'd expected that Eric's first impulse would be to hide until I forced Bill on him.

Eric must have picked up on my incredulity, because he said, "I am his Sheriff."

Technically. It was hard to be a Sheriff of vampires when you yourself were not a vampire, but I didn't say anything to Eric. We had enough fights between us without me going off and starting a new one.

"My presence will communicate our problem." Eric sounded like a management handbook, but in this case, he was right. Seeing was believing.

"Okay," I said. "Let's go."

* * *

><p>Our drive to Bill's was short and uneventful. I told Eric about Mark's murder, leaving out the locket. When I mentioned the French woman, he said, "Really? French?" then got all quiet and cagey when I confirmed it.<p>

"Do you know her?" Eric's mind didn't go 1000 miles a minute for no reason.

He studied me. I resigned myself to the fact that he wasn't going to share, but then he coughed up, "I hope not. She arrived at night?"

"I don't know."

"Hm," said Eric, and then we were at Bill's.

I had my shields up. I could have eavesdropped on his thoughts, but since he'd been forthcoming—or at least as forthcoming as he ever got—listening felt a little bit like a violation. And frankly, I had too many things to worry about without adding a mysterious murderess to the list. I'd leave the French woman to Eric for now. Once I took care of Bill, Hadley, the locket, and my brother, I could move on to Mark.

I found Bill's spare key under a flowerpot and let us inside. The Anubis people had left Bill's coffin in the living room. Eric and I waited on a couch opposite. We were both pretty tense—me at the prospect of seeing Bill and Eric for obvious reasons.

After a few minutes, Eric broke the silence.

"You'll get paid whether I live or not," he said, completely out of the blue. "I've made arrangements with Bobby."

I had no idea what to make of that.

I appreciated money as much as the next person—maybe more than some, considering my property taxes—but over the last few days, Eric had tried to use compensation as a way to control me. I was safer not even getting into it with him. "I don't care about the money." I was helping him because I wanted to, even though he made it hard to remember.

"You'd take it, regardless." There was a nasty edge to his voice.

I shrugged. If he was going to talk to me like that, I had nothing more to say.

Eric looked offended. His reaction confused me, until I realized that he might have been trying to thank me. What had he said? _You'll get paid, whether I live or not._ Whatever happened to him, I'd be taken care of. My compensation was no longer contingent. From his perspective, it was a huge concession.

I didn't know whether to feel touched or exasperated. Our relationship would be a whole lot simpler if he could just say thank you.

"You aren't going to die," I said. "Pam either."

Eric seemed surprised. He opened his mouth to say something, but then Bill's clock struck five. Outside the window, daylight was fading. Eric turned his attention to the coffin. He looked grim. "Soon."

That one word—_soon_—upped my stress level. In a minute or two, Bill would wake up. The last time I'd seen him, we'd broken up. Suddenly, the room felt small. Stifling. I needed a moment. To take a deep breath. Prepare myself. I stood up. I couldn't calm down with Eric beside me. "I need a minute."

"Stay." Eric grabbed my wrist. When he touched me, all I could think about was him pinning me in my bed.

I jerked away.

Eric didn't try to touch me again, but he repeated, "Stay." His voice was gentle. He realized that he'd come on too strong. He was thinking about the best way to calm me down. A joke? Politeness. "Please."

I'd been too upset to block him out, but I pulled back now. Falling into his thoughts was too easy and I hardly ever liked what I found.

"I need you to stay," Eric said. "You can't be glamoured. Whenever Pam or I are with Bill, I need you there to keep track of time."

It was a huge ask. From sunset to sunup, I'd be on a leash.

"He'll wake any minute." Eric patted the sofa next to him. "Sit."

I stayed standing. "Bill's not going to glamour you."

Eric's voice was steady, but his thoughts were tinged with fear. "Not if I take precautions."

Precautions? I understood Eric's fear of glamour, but last time I'd checked, I was a person. Not a contingency plan.

"This is an opportunity for Bill."

I said nothing. Eric gave me the silent treatment whenever he didn't like what I had to say. While I hardly wanted to model my behavior after his, I was frustrated enough to throw his weapon of choice back at him.

Eric didn't seem to notice. "I glamored you. In Jackson." When met with silence, he added, "In my defense, you let me."

I had no idea why he was digging this up, so I kept my mouth shut. Silence was really the best policy until I knew that I could talk without losing my temper.

"You remember?"

I nodded. Of course I remembered. Jackson had only been a month ago. "Eric, you have to help me out here." I wasn't sure what he was after. He wasn't big on memory lane and if he wanted to reminisce, the time I'd been staked and almost killed wasn't exactly a Kodak moment.

"Forget it," he said, but his thoughts told a different story. He wanted to know what glamour felt like. Whether he'd be able to tell if it happened.

He was frightened of Bill.

For goodness sake.

"It was nice." I said. "Like going to sleep."

Eric looked at me, sharp. He wondered if I'd read his mind.

"I read your mind." Saying it was stupid, but I was too tired to be anything other than blunt.

Apparently, so was he. "I wish you wouldn't."

Truth was the best defense. "You're loud. I have to work to block you out."

He stared at me. I stared at him. It could have been a contest, if either of us had the energy to waste on that sort of thing.

Then, he nodded. "Okay."

I was honestly surprised. "Okay?"

"Okay." He said it like he was addressing someone hard of hearing. I didn't know what he was thinking, because I'd pulled out of his mind. His expression was neutral, but every other part of him seemed tense.

I felt sorry for him.

I was surprised that I was able to, after the day we'd had.

I sat on the sofa. I made sure there was an empty cushion between us. I didn't need to read Eric's thoughts to know that he wanted reassurance. "Look, glamour wasn't so bad."

"It's okay, Sookie." Eric thought I was humoring him. And I was. A little. I pulled out of his head. Somehow, he kept drawing me in.

As hard as this was for me, it was also bad for him. That didn't excuse his behavior. It just explained it. A little.

Eric looked pensive. It seemed like he was gearing up to say something. I braced myself, but then his eyes flickered to Bill's coffin.

I followed his gaze.

The coffin had started to shake, as if something inside were moving.


	13. Jungle Room

The coffin started shaking. The lid swung open, pushed from the inside.

I caught a surge of emotion from Eric—anger, fear, despair. On instinct, I grabbed his hand. He looked at me, surprised. Join the club, buddy. I'd surprised myself. Eric squeezed my hand so tight it almost hurt. As I squeezed back, I realized my palms were sweaty. I was just as scared as he was.

Bill sat up. We dropped hands. I don't know which of us moved first.

Bill looked at Eric. Then me. Then Eric again. Then Eric harder.

He started laughing.

I was freaked out. Eric didn't look much happier. "Bill—" I began, but before I could finish, Bill was out of the coffin and had Eric against the wall. He moved so fast, one moment, Eric was sitting next to me; the next, he was gone.

Being the mature, centuries-old individuals that they are, Bill and Eric immediately started in on a staring contest. I'll give Eric something—for all his hullabaloo about glamour, he looked Bill in the eye and didn't blink.

"Hands off," he said.

Bill obliged.

"We have a problem." I told the room. Everyone already knew, but I was afraid they'd spend all day glaring at each other if I didn't intervene.

Neither of them responded. Bill was too busy watching Eric; Eric was watching Bill. Eric's expression was calm, almost nonchalant, but his thoughts were roiling. His eyes kept darting around the room. Looking for an exit? No, a weapon. He fixed on firewood, piled near Bill's chimney. It was a leftover from when we'd been dating. Bill didn't feel the cold.

I caught Eric's eyes. Shook my head. Don't be stupid.

And it was stupid. Really stupid. Eric couldn't get to the firewood before Bill caught him. But beyond that, Eric knew better than to attack Bill. I couldn't believe that he'd rather stake him than ask for his help. Fear had made him foolhardy. Eric was thinking like a cornered animal. But he didn't have to. Bill would help us.

I hoped.

Bill took a step closer to Eric. He grabbed Eric's hand. Eric tried to tug free, but of course he wasn't able to. Bill started feeling up and down his wrist. I thought it was weird, until I realized that Bill was searching for a pulse. When he found it, he was still for a moment. Then, he dropped Eric's arm.

Bill stared at Eric like he'd never seen anything so remarkable.

Eric stared back. "What?" It was a challenge. He was daring Bill to say it out loud.

Bill started laughing. Eric glared. Bill tried to stop himself, but he very obviously couldn't. "Am I dreaming?" he said.

* * *

><p>"It's not just me," Eric said. "Clancy, Pam."<p>

"Possibly the other Area 5 vamps," I said. Eric nodded. We'd never discussed it, but if I'd come to that conclusion, you could be he did too.

"And both witches are dead?" Bill looked like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Welcome to my world.

"One by accident," I said. "One murdered."

"By a French woman," Eric added.

Bill looked at him, sharp. I was sure that whatever French lady Eric had been thinking of, Bill knew her too. Which meant she was probably a vampire. Great.

"You mean Cajun," Bill said.

"Sookie?" Eric looked at me.

I was obviously in the middle of something, but I didn't know where the battle lines were. I decided to ignore it for now, and hope it didn't come back to bite me. "I was told French." The woman at the motel talked like she was from around here, so she'd know the difference. Plus, we didn't get many Cajuns in this part of the state. Then again, we didn't get many French people either.

"Speaking of," Eric said, "I've been summoned to New Orleans."

Bill understood immediately. "The Queen."

"Who else?" said Mr. Smarmy.

"You can't go."

"Obviously."

They could have gone on like that for a while, so I stepped in. "Bill, I was hoping you could hold her off. Until we break the spell."

"Say I have pressing business," Eric piggybacked. "I'm sending you in my stead."

"She'll be upset," Bill said.

"The truth would upset her more." Eric gave Bill a significant look. "You can take care of this. You know her well enough. You were always a favorite."

"We have a working relationship." Bill sounded reluctant. His eyes flickered to me.

"Don't we all," said Eric, and he was looking from Bill to me with more interest than usual.

I didn't want to get bogged down in their sniping. We didn't have time. "Well, you're the only vampire we've got, so if you don't help—" I left the worst-case scenario unsaid.

Eric glared at me. He didn't like me putting it out there so bluntly, but I saw no reason to be coy. If Bill didn't help us, we were screwed.

If I was going to throw in the bacon, I might as well go whole hog. I met Bill's eyes. His cool gaze brought back memories, good and bad alike. I suppressed a shiver. "Look, it's not just Eric," I said. "Pam, Clancy. Maybe every other vampire in the Area. It could have just as easily been you." By the grace of god, it wasn't.

Bill stared at me. His expression was unreadable. Then, he turned to Eric. "You will owe me."

"Obviously," Eric said.

"And if the Queen finds out—"

"I take responsibility," Eric said. "Obviously."

"I want—" Bill started.

Eric was quick to shut him down. "We'll negotiate details later."

Later meant when the spell was broken. When Eric could maneuver from a position of power. Bill was smart enough to ignore him. "After this, you leave Sookie be."

I was just as surprised as Eric.

"That's what you want?" Eric looked incredulous.

"No more demands. No more Dallas," Bill said. "She's done enough for you."

I didn't know whether to feel insulted or touched. Bill could ask Eric for the moon and his first thought had been me. Had I done 'enough' for Eric? Yes, a thousand times over. But I'd also had my fill of Bill. Rescuing him from his cheating ex left me with more aches and pains than I could count. Just touching the memory made me feel awful. I couldn't dwell on it.

If I let Bill push Eric out of my life, I'd be in his debt. That wasn't a place I wanted to be.

I looked up to find Eric watching me, sort of smiling. "Sookie?" He seemed smug.

I felt tired. I wanted to be alone. I wanted to give Eric a rap on the head.

I turned to Bill. I appreciated his concern, but he wasn't my keeper. I chose my words carefully. "I appreciate you coming back here." And I did. "But I run my own life." These days, it was a full-time job.

"That's it?" Bill said, and I nodded.

He seemed upset. He was at least miffed, if not outright angry. Well, he was entitled.

Was I making a mistake, turning down his help? Maybe. But at least the mistake was my own.

* * *

><p>Before long, Bill bounced back. He mentioned his tithe and, within seconds, he was haggling percentages with Eric. If I'd been less exhausted, I might have found their negotiation interesting. As it was, I was having trouble following the numbers game. I wanted to leave—get some water, use the facilities—but I knew Eric was set on having me as an anti-glamour buffer so I stayed put. It was a big enough step for Eric to talk to Bill, period. Tomorrow night, I could cut the safety net and force him to handle the situation by himself.<p>

You'd think the two of them were settling a war between France and Germany the way they kept yapping. They finally reached some kind of agreement, which involved a lot of numbers and Bill's blanket absolution from ever having to put in hours at Fangtasia. It was all contingent on "successful completion," e.g. Eric not dying.

After the dust settled, Eric and Bill decided that he should leave for New Orleans immediately. The sooner he reached the city, the better. Now that the sun had set, Eric was expecting a call from the Queen. If he didn't hear from her, he'd reach out himself. Either way, he'd explain that he was sending Bill in his place. If all went well, Bill would arrive just after midnight, early afternoon by vampire standards.

Bill said he'd drop us at my house, but I told him that I had to visit Jason's. As I was without a car, Bill offered to give me a ride on his way out of town. I turned him down. I wasn't jazzed on the idea of alone time with Bill. It was a short drive to Jason's—five minutes tops—but there was a lot we could say to each other. Five minutes was more than enough time to unearth subjects I didn't want to revisit.

I decided to walk to Jason's. It would be an opportunity to clear my head. His house was less than a mile from Bill's, straight through woods. My parents had owned Jason's house before they passed. I'd grown up there. Back in those days, Jason and I made the walk at least once a week to visit Gran.

I said goodbye to Bill and Eric and started across the yard. I watched as Bill pulled out of the driveway. His headlights disappeared into the darkness. He'd hadn't discovered that Eric and Pam had stolen his sedan. Thank God for small blessings.

I was halfway to the tree line when I heard footfalls behind me. Heavy footfalls. I turned.

Eric.

For goodness sake. What did I have to do for two seconds of solitude? "Yes?"

"You shouldn't walk in the woods alone." He fell into step beside me.

Walking in the woods alone was exactly my plan. I wasn't thrilled that Eric had decided to tag along. I needed to ask Hadley about the locket and it would be disastrous if he overheard anything. But I'd only raise his suspicions by insisting that he leave. It wasn't as if he could come inside Jason's house, anyway. You'd never know it, but technically, Eric was still in hiding.

Maybe he had cabin fever after being shut in my house all day. I could relate. Even sympathize. But the smartest thing for him to do was lay low.

Eric wasn't very good at cooling his heels.

"It's going to be boring," I tried, as we passed the front gate of the Sweet Home Cemetery. "Family stuff." Eric had limited interest in events that didn't revolve around him.

"I'm only walking you." Eric raised an eyebrow. "I'd think you didn't want me there."

I didn't. But acknowledging it would only pique his interest. I shrugged. Like I couldn't be bothered. "Suit yourself."

We walked in silence for a few moments, then Eric said, "You are very brave, Sookie."

My danger-meter binged. Eric never said anything nice without a motive. No wonder he'd decided to walk with me. He wanted something. I didn't have the patience to play dumb. "Eric, what's up?"

He needed no more invitation. "When you get your car back, I would like you to take me to West Memphis."

At least he'd phrased it more like a question than a demand.

"West Memphis?" All I knew was plain old Memphis. What were the chances Eric wanted to see Bubba's former digs? "You want to check out the Jungle Room?"

Eric glared. "West Memphis, Arkansas," he said and passed me a card. The witch's driver's license. I couldn't read it in the darkness, but Eric made it easy for me. "It's where she lives. Lived." He corrected himself.

"Her brother's from Arkansas." Which made sense, since they seemed to work as a team. "It was on his checks." I didn't remember the city. It could have been West Memphis.

"Good," Eric said, as if we were decided.

As soon as he gave the affirmative—with that air of finality—I regretted mentioning Mark. I wasn't sure about this whole road trip idea. Eric was supposed to be in hiding, after all. "Does anyone know you up there?"

"There are not many vampires in Arkansas," Eric said. "And the court is in Little Rock."

Eric was answering my question without really answering. Which told me, yes, he knew vampires in Arkansas. So yes, going would be a bad idea.

"I'm guessing West Memphis is near real Memphis." Just a wild supposition. "Memphis is a pretty big city." With a lot of people and probably a lot of vampires. A lot of chances for Eric to be recognized.

"I only know one man from Memphis," Eric said, and smirked.

Har har.

But once I thought about it, it stopped being funny. "Eric, what if Bubba's human?"

The smirk dropped off Eric's face. "We'd have a lot of explaining to do." He paused. "He's still in Mississippi, as far as I know."

Let's hope he was safe. An average person might stare at Eric, but not because they recognized him. Bubba was another story entirely.

By now, I could see Jason's lights in the distance. Eric and I were rounding his fishing pond. As we picked our way past the dock, Eric stopped dead. "Sookie, you smell that?"

"Nope." I sniffed the air, experimentally. Nothing but pine.

Eric stepped onto the dock. I followed. When we reached the end, he crouched down. "Here."

I knelt next to him. I stared. It looked exactly like a dock. "I can't see a thing."

Eric took my hand and placed it on the edge of the pier. The wood felt crusty. "Dried blood," he said.

Ew. "You can smell that?"

He shrugged. "Habit."

If Eric could smell blood, I bet Pam could too. It was creepy. Decidedly un-human. I shelved that away to think about later. The really important thing was that my brother was missing and there was blood near his house. I shivered. "God, let Jason be okay."

"Go," Eric said. "Talk to your cousin. I'll wait and walk you home. Unless you'd rather get a ride in that ridiculous limousine."

The woods near Jason's house suddenly felt a lot less familiar. "I'll ask Hadley to drive."

Eric nodded. "I'll wait anyway. Just in case."

It was probably overkill, but I appreciated the sentiment. "Watch out." Eric could take care of himself, but still.

He smiled. "I always do."

Wasn't that the truth?

I walked around the house to Jason's front door, trying to keep my fears in check. Maybe the blood was left over from hunting season. Eric hadn't mentioned if it was animal or human. Maybe he couldn't tell. But, then again, why would Jason take a kill onto his dock?

As soon as I rang the doorbell, Hadley appeared. She looked as upset as I felt. "Thank god you're here." She hustled me inside.

"Have you heard from Jason?"

She shook her head. I was just about to tell her about the blood, when an unfamiliar voice said, "You must be Sookie."

I turned around.

A man with white-blond hair stood in the kitchen doorway, watching me. He was no taller than I was, but it didn't stop me from feeling intimidated. Just by looking at him, you could tell he meant business and it was weird, almost unsettling, because he didn't look a day over 17. His features were more boy than man.

His clothes were slick. Expensive. Too nice, for someone his age.

Between the outfit, the don't mess with me vibe, and what I knew of Hadley, I had a sinking feeling that this kid was a drug dealer.

I wasn't thrilled that he knew my name.

"Hi," I said to him, because I wasn't stupid. When this guy talked to you, he expected a response. Then, I turned to my fool cousin. "You have guests?" Hadley had mentioned her girlfriend, but I had no idea who this man was and zero interest in finding out. I was sure Jason would be just as pissed when he found out that Hadley had invited strangers into his home.

"Sookie, this is Andre." Hadley paused. She seemed unsure. "My friend."

Andre nodded at me. "Pleasure." He was polite, which made him seem even creepier.

"I've got to use the bathroom. You two get acquainted." Hadley said, and darted up the stairs.

I was not going to let her leave me alone with a teenage gangster. "What about Jason?"

"Give me a sec." Hadley disappeared. I thought about following, but then I felt a prickling on the back of my neck. I turned around. Hadley's friend was staring at me. His eyes were such a pale blue, they seemed almost colorless.

_Sookie__ Stackhouse,_ he thought. _Sookie__ Stackhouse,__ Sookie__ Stackhouse,__ Sookie__ Stackhouse._

I'm pretty good at not reacting to what I hear in people's heads. But this guy was thinking straight at me, almost like he was doing it on purpose. I stared at him. I couldn't stop myself. Surprise was probably written all over my face.

His smile widened. "It's very nice to meet you, Sookie," he said. "Hadley will be back soon."

Then, he walked out of the room.

Was it possible that Hadley had told her friend what I could do? I couldn't see why she would have or why he'd believe her, but I couldn't otherwise explain what had just happened.

I should have let Andre leave. But I was curious. Maybe even pissed. I felt a little violated.

So I tailed him into Jason's living room.

Andre was leaning over the couch, whispering to someone with red hair. When I walked into the room, they both looked up. I instantly regretted not waiting in the hall.

Andre's friend was a woman. If he looked young, she seemed even younger. She couldn't have been more than 15. Even though she didn't really resemble Andre, the two of them had such a similar bearing I figured that they had to be related. Maybe even brother and sister.

"Hi." My voice came out too loud. Nerves. "I'm Sookie Stackhouse, Hadley's cousin."

Andre's sister looked straight at me. Her face was expressionless. It reminded me of Eric. "Hello, Sookie."

The two of them had to be dealers. I'd never seen a normal teenager with eyes that cold.

A phone rang. I thanked my lucky stars, because it got the woman's eyes off me. She reached into her purse and fished out a cell. Glanced at the caller ID. Showed it to Andre. He shrugged, as if to say, do what you want.

She flipped it open. "Where are you?" During the silence, her brows knitted together. Her eyes flickered to me, then she stood up and walked out of the room. As she went, I caught the beginning of her reply, "Why Bill?"

A chill went down my spine.

Was it possible?

Andre was watching me. "Hadley speaks highly of you." He was thinking about Hadley and me. Light and dark. A matched set.

"I need air," I said.

I left, without waiting for Andre's reply. I could feel my heart thumping. I walked to the back door, but as soon as I was outside, I broke into a run. I nearly tripped over myself in my haste to reach the dock.

Eric stood at the water's edge.

He was on his cell.

"Who are you talking to?" I asked.

He held up a finger to silence me.

Under normal circumstances, I would have waited for him to finish. But this was too important. "Who are you talking to?"

Eric put his hand over the receiver. "Who do you think?"

Then, he froze. His eyes fixed on a point over my shoulder.

I turned.

Andre had followed me outside.

His sister stood a few paces behind, phone at her ear. She was looking over my shoulder at Eric.

She lowered her cell.

"So," she said. "You too?"


	14. Soft Sell

"So," she said. "You too."

Eric inclined his head. "Your majesty." It wasn't quite a bow, but the gesture of submission was unmistakable. In any other circumstances, it would have seemed goofy. You rarely see a big giant of a man kowtowing to a little girl. But the girl—no, the Queen—had such an air of power, submitting seemed like the only reasonable thing to do.

She wasn't my Queen, but I was wondering if I shouldn't curtsy myself. Just to be on the safe side.

The Queen watched Eric, unblinking. I couldn't tell if she was satisfied by his show of deference or if she was waiting to sic Andre on us. For his part, Andre looked ready to pounce. It was obvious from the way he hovered near the Queen, tense, that he was her attack dog. I wasn't sure what such a little guy could do against Eric, but I didn't want to find out.

Neither, it seemed, did Eric. As the silence stretched, Eric inclined his head again, for good measure.

"Your people?" the Queen asked.

"Are like us," said Eric.

The Queen turned to Andre and sighed. It was the first remotely human thing I'd seen her do. I found it more disconcerting than anything else. Emotion looked strange on her.

The Queen was too far away for me to read her thoughts and I was almost too scared to try. I'd thought Eric's mind was frightening, but this woman was a different breed entirely.

She nodded at Jason's house. "Come," she said to Eric. Then, she looked straight at me. I wanted to run and hide. "Bring the telepath." As she turned to go, she something to Andre in a foreign language. I'm no expert, but it sounded French. Or French-like.

I looked at Eric. He was decidedly not looking at me, which confirmed my suspicions. "You knew?"

He was quiet for a second. "Not exactly." His voice was low and he wasn't making eye contact, unusual for him. I realized he didn't want the Queen to know we were talking to each other.

'Not exactly' left a lot of questions open, but Eric didn't elaborate further. To be fair, this wasn't really the time for a chat.

The Queen went. Andre stayed. Making sure we didn't bolt, I guess, although we'd be stupid to disobey a direct order.

As soon as the Queen turned her back, Eric put his hand on my shoulder. He pointed me towards Jason's house. I thought the manhandling was overkill and was about to tell him so, until I realized that he was using it as a pretense to draw me closer to him. "If she asks, say you are with Bill." Again, his voice was low. He didn't want Andre to overhear.

"Why?" Why would he ask me to lie?

"A hunch." Something close to pity flashed across Eric's face. It frightened me more than the Queen. "We'll talk later."

He nudged me and we started moving in earnest. Eric kept his hand on my shoulder, under the guise of escorting me. For once, I was glad to have him close. His hand felt warm. Familiar, even. Or at least more familiar than anything else in the immediate vicinity.

Andre fell into step behind us. We weren't quite prisoners, but I didn't feel free either.

Inside Jason's, the Queen was waiting. She was flanked by two giant hulks of men, who looked like they'd born south of the year 1000. Their faces were pitted by pockmarks. Their long hair had gone out of style with the Renaissance. They were so tall their heads scraped Jason's ceiling and so broad they seemed to fill the hall between the two of them. Eric was a big man, but he suddenly seemed a lot smaller.

"Sigebert, Wybert." Eric nodded to each of the mountains in turn.

I'd never heard names like that in my life. Sigebert and Wybert. Try saying that five times fast.

One of the mountains—I wasn't sure if it was Sigebert or Wybert—stepped between the Queen and Eric. I was half surprised that the ground didn't shake when he moved. The other stood in front of the back door as soon as Andre shut it. Their message was clear: don't try anything and don't leave.

I was feeling more like a prisoner by the second. I chanced a look at Eric. His face betrayed nothing, but his hand had tightened on my shoulder.

Hadley appeared at the top of the stairs. 'Sorry' was written all over her face. I'd seen that look a thousand times before. It was the exact expression she'd worn whenever Gran or Aunt Linda would tear her a new one for staying out all night without calling. Of course, our current mess was a lot worse than anything she'd gotten into in high school.

How did Hadley know the Queen? Why was she mixed up with vampires, period? Let alone vampires as dangerous as these ones?

I wasn't sure that I wanted to know the answers.

I felt like I was teetering on the edge of a precipice.

I was too afraid to speak, but I looked at Hadley in the hopes that she'd say something to me. Ideally, she'd tell me I was dreaming and it was time to wake up. Even as I wished it, I knew I was being stupid. This was real. My life had taken dangerous turns over the past year, but there was still no way I'd be able to imagine a scenario so terrifying.

Hadley was staring at me. No, not at me—at my shoulder. At Eric's hand. He was still holding me. I looked at the Queen. She was watching us too.

Just like that, Eric let go. Quick, like I'd burned him. He pushed me forward, as if he were presenting me. He was not happy with himself.

The two of us could start a club. I was pissed at him too. Did he have my back or had he cut me loose? I felt like he'd thrown me to the wolves.

Eric was wondering how long the Queen had known about me. I slammed up my shields. I couldn't afford to be slipping in and out of his thoughts. I was treading water as is.

"What's waiting for me in New Orleans?" Eric asked.

"A cell," the Queen said. "Temporary. Bill informed me of your interest in the telepath." With that, Eric's eyes flickered to me. "I see his concern was not unwarranted." Eric looked back at the Queen faster than you could say hot potato. "I couldn't risk you happening across us."

Per usual, there was a lot of talk of the telepath without the telepath being included in the conversation. For once, the telepath was okay with that. In fact, the telepath would be even more okay if she could get herself out of the conversation period. Out of the room. Out of house, even, but I didn't want to dream too high.

What would happen if I spoke? The prospect terrified me. But if I was going to weasel out of this six-way staring contest, there was no other way around it.

I cleared my throat.

Every eye in the room snapped to me.

I took a deep breath. There was no backing out now.

"It seems like you all have catching up to do," I said. "Why don't I leave you to it?" I pointed at Jason's kitchen to let them know I wasn't a flight risk. "If you need me," and I so hoped they didn't, "I'll be in there."

None of them said a word. Well, at least they weren't saying no.

I remembered my manners. "Anyone want something?" After all, I was escaping to the kitchen. Maybe people would relax after a snack.

They stared at me. Blank. I decided to take that as a no. "Okay. See you later." It sounded lame, even to my ears, but I didn't care, as long as it got me out of the hall.

No one stopped me, so I started towards the kitchen. I could feel six sets of eyes on my back. It made my skin crawl. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the Queen nod to Hadley. It was an unmistakable order. Go babysit.

I walked into the kitchen, my cousin a few steps behind me. Hadley shut the door.

Thank god.

For a moment, I enjoyed the silence.

"You want a snack?" I asked. The two of us had a lot to talk about, but I wasn't ready to face any of it just yet. Let alone on an empty stomach.

"Maybe a beer."

I tried to keep judgment off my face. Hadley was of age. She was entitled. That being said, it hardly seemed like the time. I was struggling to hold onto my wits as it was.

I opened the fridge. Jason, of course, kept it well stocked with Bud.

Hadley didn't waste a minute. She reached around me to take a beer. She popped off the top using the magnetized opener Jason had stuck to the front of his freezer.

"You want any food?" Drinking on an empty stomach did not seem wise, under the circumstances.

"He got any ice cream?" Hadley asked.

I checked. As soon as I looked in the freezer, I felt a sinking sense of deja vu. Last night, Hadley had eaten me out of Rocky Road. Bacon too. She'd been starved. What she'd been griping about at my house?

It hit me.

I was surprised that it had taken me this long to put it together.

"All liquid diet?" She hadn't meant a juice fast.

Hadley just looked at me. Poker face.

That, more than anything, confirmed my suspicions.

"How long?"

"A year," she said. "Just about."

She took a long pull on her beer.

I wanted her to say more, but she just stared at me.

"Why?" slipped out before I could think. Logically, I knew that vampires started off as people, but this felt different. I'd played dress up with Hadley. Hide and seek. We'd grown up together. I couldn't wrap my mind around it.

Her eyes flashed. "Why?" She sounded offended. "Why not? I'll be young forever."

I guessed that was true. I didn't know what to say. I couldn't tell her I was happy for her, because I wasn't. Hadley had lied to me about the reason she'd come back to Bon Temps, but that hardly seemed important under the circumstances. I wondered if she'd even had a husband.

Hadley was a vampire.

My own cousin. And here I'd thought I had an ally of sorts, no mater how flawed. Another human against all the vamps.

I didn't know how our grandmother would feel. I didn't know how I should feel. As I thought about it, I realized how I felt didn't really matter. This was Hadley's life. "Are you happy?"

"Of course." She said it like she was trying to prove something.

"Well, good." I didn't know what more to say.

As we looked at each other, the fight slid out of her face. "I love Sophie-Anne."

So Hadley hadn't been lying about being a lesbian. That made me feel a little better, but I couldn't have told you why. At any rate, she obviously meant it. I could tell by the way she said her girlfriend's name, like it was painful. Some days, that was how I felt about Bill.

Sophie was a French name. I felt a sinking sensation.

"Sophie-Anne is the Queen?" I couldn't imagine loving her—she was terrifying. Hadley was either very brave or very foolish. Maybe both.

"God, you really are clueless." Hadley said it like it was something to be ashamed of, but I preferred it that way. There were some things I didn't need to know.

And there were some things I did. Now that I knew Hadley was a vampire, the pieces of the mystery had begun to click together. But I needed confirmation from her. "What happened at that motel?"

"What motel?" Hadley hadn't yet mastered the vampire poker face. Fear and annoyance flashed across her features before she settled on disinterest.

I didn't want to go through her thoughts, but I would, if I had to. "I found your locket on the witch's body."

No reaction. I kept on watching her.

Finally, she cracked. "Look, I wasn't there." I didn't believe her. "We pooled our silver, okay?"

"So it wasn't you?" I'd be lying if I said that didn't make me feel better. I wasn't an idiot—if Hadley was a vampire, she could kill, and if she was dating the Queen of Louisiana, she probably had. But there was a difference between suspecting and knowing for sure. I didn't want to think of Hadley as a murderer.

"Andre lost his temper," said a voice behind me. "It was an unfortunate accident."

I turned. The Queen stood in the doorway.

My first instinct was to bolt, but I managed to keep my feet planted.

She gave me a brilliant smile. "I think we've gotten off to a bad start," she said. "Forgive me."

One minute I was 'the telepath' and the next she was asking for forgiveness? I felt like I had whiplash. But when the Queen said jump, you damn well hopped to it. I'd learned that much in the 20 minutes we'd known each other. She wanted forgiveness? I'd be dumb to hold a grudge.

And I'd be dumber to forget what she was capable of. Now matter how wide she smiled.

At any rate, I nodded. "Sure."

"I'm Sophie-Anne," she said.

"Sookie." She already knew, but it seemed like the polite thing to do.

"May I?" Sophie-Anne nodded at the kitchen table. She was asking my permission to sit.

As I nodded, I caught a stab of jealousy from Hadley. She was looking from the Queen to me, like she couldn't believe what was going on. For some reason, she was frightened.

"Please." The Queen motioned at the table. I sat.

"Hadley." I wanted an ally. Even a poor one. I nodded at the chair next to me, but she shook her head and retreated to the corner of the kitchen.

Sophie-Anne glanced after her. When she saw the beer, she gave Hadley the look of disapproval I'd wanted to. Hadley glowered like a petulant child and took a long drink.

The Queen didn't spare her another glance. Instead, she turned to me.

Lucky me.

"Eric says you can read my mind."

Thanks, Eric.

But since my nickname was apparently 'the telepath,' it wasn't exactly a secret.

I nodded. I had no reason to lie and I'd figure she'd see through any deception. This was a woman who didn't suffer fools. My plan was to be straight with her and hope for the same.

"I ask that you don't," she said. "To the best that you're able."

Her offer was clear. If I stayed on my side of the fence, I could keep dealing with 'Sophie-Anne' as opposed to 'the Queen.'

It seemed like a fair trade.

It impressed me that she'd made the offer even though she had no foolproof way of knowing that I'd live up to my end of the bargain. She was giving me the benefit of the doubt.

It surprised me. It raised her in my estimation. Sophie-Anne was treating me like a person.

The least I could do was show her the same consideration. Since she'd given me enough credit to take me at my word, I'd give her the credit to respect her privacy. I couldn't exactly say that I'd started to like her, but I wished that Eric, for instance, had been this courteous.

"Okay," I said. The deal was fair.

She smiled. It made her look incredibly young and incredibly sweet. I knew she was neither, but in that moment, it was easy to forget.

Unlike Eric, Sophie-Anne wasn't a broadcaster. In fact, she seemed inwardly directed. But I could feel her mind and I knew I could have reached out and grabbed her thoughts if I wanted to. I honestly didn't want to. I was in enough trouble as it was.

When the smile dropped off her face, I knew we were on to business. Sophie-Anne was looking at me intently. If she hadn't been human, I would have thought she was trying to glamour me.

"Sookie, I need your help."

It figured.


	15. The Living Dead

Andre, the Queen, Eric and I assembled around the kitchen table. It felt like a weird dinner party. I'd fixed chips and salsa (the red kind, of course) but none of the ex-vampires so much as touched it. When Sophie-Anne started her story, I didn't feel much like eating myself.

"Last week, Waldo's corpse was dumped outside my compound in New Orleans," she said.

That meant something to everyone except me. "Who's Waldo?"

"A vampire," Eric said, and a chill went down my spine. After their final deaths, vampires flaked away, leaving a dust-like residue. If Waldo's corpse had been found, he must have been human at the time of death.

"Waldo was under my protection." Sophie-Anne didn't seem to be big on the emotions, but under the poker face, she actually looked pissed.

"The Sheriffs weren't informed?" Eric said it like he was merely inquiring, but I could tell he wasn't pleased at being kept out of the loop.

Sophie-Anne said nothing. Andre stared at Eric, unblinking.

"At the time, I believed it was an attack on me alone," Sophie-Anne finally said.

No one had much to say to that. She'd been mistaken, obviously.

"We inquired into his death," Sophie-Anne said. "He was last seen at a hotel, in the company of a woman registered under the name Stonebrook."

"We tracked her to your area," Andre piggybacked. "But before we could take measures, we were likewise affected."

The switchover had happened on New Year's Eve. One of the biggest party nights of the year, especially in New Orleans.

Eric seemed to be following my train of thought. "Witnesses?"

"None remaining," said Andre.

Hearing that made me feel ill, but Eric didn't so much as blink.

Whatever had happened to those poor 'witnesses' couldn't have been far off Mark's fate. I flashed back to the motel. Mark's face. I shut my eyes, not that it would do much good.

"How did you find them?" I asked.

As one, they looked at me. Their faces were blank, but that didn't make them seem any less hostile. I immediately regretted speaking. It seemed as if I were supposed to be seen and not heard. Like a child.

It pissed me off, but not enough to make me stupid.

Then, Sophie-Anne remembered herself. She forced a smile. "Money," she said. "Credit card. Andre has a friend in the police department."

I doubted that friendship had been the motivating factor. Just looking at Sygbert and Wybert told me all I needed to know about what had happened.

"We found the man. We wanted this one to read him," Andre nodded at me. "But it turned out he didn't matter. His sister's the one with power."

Andre was talking about Marnie in the present tense.

Did they not know she was dead?

Then, I realized that Mark probably hadn't known. From his point of view, Marnie had disappeared at the mall and never come back.

My heart was pounding. I couldn't be the one to tell them the truth. It had to be Eric. The vampires treated me like I'd crossed a line when I asked a simple question. I couldn't imagine their reaction if I was the bearer of bad news.

"He said she disappeared," Andre said.

"He didn't say much." There was a hint of reproach in Sophie-Anne's voice.

I waited for her to elaborate. Nothing came.

I hated to listen in on the vampires, but this was a real sink or swim moment. If they even suspected that we'd killed Marnie, we had to come clean. And fast.

I dropped my shields. Eric's thoughts pressed at me—he was thinking about hitting Marnie with his car, go figure. I pushed him aside and focused on Andre.

His thoughts were jumpy. Images. I recognized the motel room. Sophie-Anne had said that Mark wasn't a Chatty Cathy, but apparently, Andre had lost his temper before Mark had a chance to say much of anything. I saw Mark's face. A flash of red.

I pulled out of Andre's mind. It was all I could take. Seeing Mark's body had been bad enough. I couldn't stomach watching the murder.

When I came back to myself, Andre was staring at me. Did he know that I'd been eavesdropping? His face was blank, but it made him no less terrifying. I knew I had to play it cool, but the longer Andre looked at me the harder it was to keep my fear in check. I could hear my pulse thudding.

"Sookie, we want you to read the witch," Sophie-Anne said. "When we find her."

That was going to be hard, for obvious reasons.

I waited for Eric to cough up the truth, but he said nothing. The silence stretched. I looked at Eric. He looked anywhere but me. As far as he was concerned, I might as well have not existed.

Sophie-Anne noticed. "Eric?"

Eric might ignore me, but he didn't have that option with the Queen.

He took a breath. Like he was getting ready. It was a human gesture and it looked strange on him. "The witch approached me the night before it happened. She demanded a cut of my business. I refused." Eric sounded matter-of-fact, almost as if he was relating something that had happened to somebody else. "Last night, Sookie suggested we meet the witch in a public place. She volunteered to listen in."

"Very good," the Queen smiled at me like I was her star pupil. I didn't know what to make of it, but I forced myself to smile back.

"The witch discovered us. Pursued. We lost her." Eric paused, again.

Here it was. The moment of truth.

"I haven't seen her since."

For a second, I though I'd misheard him.

Then, I realized that Eric had lied. Outright.

My heart sped up. I couldn't look at him. I tried to keep a poker face, but I wasn't nearly as good at it as he was.

I could feel Sophie-Anne's eyes on me. The silence felt ominous.

"Sookie is afraid that the witch will track me to her house," Eric said. "She is too polite to tell you herself."

Afraid of the witch? Try afraid that Eric had lost his mind. Why the hell was he lying?

But amazingly, the Queen bought it. She smiled again. It was almost as if I were a child and I'd done something sweet. "Sookie, you've nothing to worry about," she said. "We'll keep you safe."

Keep me safe? If I were a stupid woman, I would have taken that opening and run with it. Thankfully, Gran had raised me smarter. There was a lot I wanted to say, but I kept my mouth shut. Living until tomorrow sounded nice and I was going to do my darndest to make it happen.

"She's frightened," Andre said, as if I were some kind of exotic species.

"Of course I am." I hadn't meant it to come out so snappy, but I could hardly unsay it.

The Queen laughed. Eric smiled too. He seemed relaxed. Too relaxed. Our gentlemen's agreement be damned, I needed to know what the hell was going on. I dropped my shields. Again.

Eric was thinking about Bill and me. He wondered if he was smiling too much. If the Queen would kill him.

So his thoughts were running concurrent with mine.

I didn't know if I felt better or worse knowing that I wasn't the only person a hairsbreadth away from panic.

It was no wonder that Eric was on edge. Lying to someone like the Queen wasn't something I couldn't imagine being comfortable with, even after 1000 years of practice.

If Eric hadn't mentioned the witch's death, he had to have had a reason. Deciding between Eric and the Queen might be a devil's bargain, but it wasn't a real choice. I had to go with the devil I knew.

I took a deep breath.

"Any idea where she might be?" Eric was treading a fine line. I hoped to God he knew what he was doing.

"She couldn't have gone far," Andre said.

Yeah, because she was dead.

Eric played it cool. "Why not?"

* * *

><p>"Because we have her car."<p>

Andre flicked on the light in Jason's garage. There was an unfamiliar station wagon inside. The trunk was open. Inside was an unzipped suitcase, contents strewn everywhere.

"The keys were at the motel," Andre said. "We have her money, clothes, everything. We hoped to find a spell book, but there's nothing more notable than her passport."

I studied the clothes spilling out of the suitcase. Marnie sure owned a lot of black. Black dresses, black slacks, black socks. Well, she was a witch. Maybe black was part of the uniform.

As I looked around for a black pointed hat, a pop of color caught my eye. It was half covered by what looked like nightgown. I leaned into the trunk and pushed the clothes aside.

It was a romance novel. The cover featured a swooning woman and a big blond guy who looked more than a little bit like Eric, wearing nothing but britches and a smirk. _His_ _Lordship__'__s_ _Lover_ looped across the cover in fancy script.

Marnie hadn't struck me as a romance kind of girl.

I picked up the book.

Behind me, Andre cleared his throat. If his mind hadn't told me that I'd raised his suspicion, his face would have confirmed it.

I thought quick. "I haven't read this one yet." I summoned my best crazy Sookie smile.

Eric was watching me, intent, but my answer seemed to placate Andre, who smirked.

Good. Let him think I was stupid.

If I were Marnie, I'd have put whatever I didn't want people to find in the last place they'd think to look. And who would bother searching a romance novel?

Besides me, that is.

I opened the book. To a sex scene. His Lordship's proud manhood wasn't what I'd been after, so I turned the page. Now, Lordship and Lucinda had moved from the bedroom to the bath. I wasn't sure what I'd been looking for, but the sex lives of imaginary aristocracy wasn't it.

As Eric and Andre started discussing where the witch might have headed, I tried not to think six feet under and began to thumb through the romance.

To be fair, I didn't know Marnie from Adam, but in the little I'd seen of her, I wouldn't have pegged her as a reader of bodice-rippers. And his Lordship certainly ripped a lot of bodices, not all of them belonging to Lucinda. I was about to give up and toss the book back onto the pile of Marnie's clothes when my thumb caught a piece of paper rougher than the rest.

A photograph was stuck between the pages.

I wanted to look at the picture, but I didn't want to attract attention. I glanced at the ex-vampires. Andre had his back to me, but Eric met my eyes.

He nodded. The gesture was slight, but unmistakable. Keep doing what you're doing.

I didn't need him to tell me. It was what I'd been planning anyway. But it made me feel marginally better. It gave me some small sliver of hope that he actually had a plan.

I opened the book wider, so I could get a clear look at the photograph.

It was a group portrait. Men and women in old-timey uniforms. A generation younger than Gran, but older than my parents. Maybe the 1960s. Their hair curled in funny directions and the group was integrated.

From the surroundings—marble and pillars— it looked like the photo had been taken in a hotel or grand restaurant. The women were dressed like maids and waitresses. The men, valets.

I flipped the picture over. A note was penciled on the back.

_Front row. 4 & 5 from L. Mom and Octavia._

I counted from the left. Two faces stared up at me. One white, one black. Mom and Octavia. The picture quality was poor. Their features were no more than smudges.

Why had the picture had been kept inside the romance novel? As a marker? A memento? Or by accident? With Mark and Marnie gone, I wasn't sure that we'd ever know.

As I looked at the page the photograph was marking, my heart nearly stopped.

Someone had taped a scrap of folded notebook paper inside the book.

I unfolded the note.

It was a list of ingredients and instructions. A title was penciled at the top.

_The Living Dead._

* * *

><p>I didn't tell Andre. And I didn't tell the Queen.<p>

Why?

I didn't trust them. I didn't fully trust Eric, or even Pam, but I knew them, and even liked them more-or-less. Andre and Sophie-Anne were entirely alien. I knew they was on their best behavior, but being able to class it as that told me how tenuous our truce was.

I wanted to mull over my discovery before entrusting it to someone else.

Contrary to my expectations, 'The Living Dead' was not a recipe for making vampires human.

That being said, it looked remarkably like a recipe. The spell called for about 20 kinds of herbs, grave dirt, and—I shuddered when I got to the last ingredient—human remains. It was also heavily annotated. One of the Stonebrooks had crossed out ingredients, and penciled in substitutes or different amounts.

I had to read the instructions twice to get the general gist. "The Living Dead" was séance how-to and, frankly, it was pretty grisly. If the witch had a piece of the dead person he or she wished to speak with (ugh), the spell enabled him or her to conjure spectral face time. No more than a few minutes, and it was by no means a sure thing—"some of the dead have moved on" the instructions said, managing to be both cryptic and matter-of-fact.

It didn't take a lot of brainpower to solve the mystery behind the photograph. Judging from the annotations, one or both of the Stonebrooks had attempted the spell. I would bet anything "Mom" had been the person they'd wanted to reach.

It made Marnie seem human. Honestly, it made me feel sorry for her. If I'd had a chance to speak with Gran, I'd take it in a heartbeat. Even knowing that I'd be upsetting the natural order, but I wouldn't be able to hold myself back.

On the other hand, I hoped that Gran had 'moved on.' Even if that made her unreachable for now.

Andre either didn't notice or care when I slipped the romance novel into my purse. He'd searched the car with Eric a second time and found nothing.

When we reentered the house, the Queen was waiting at the kitchen table. She gave the Eric and Andre a look and, like well-trained dogs, they sat. I was left standing like an idiot.

"Sookie," the Queen said. "Join us."

It wasn't a request. I took a seat next to Eric and as far from Andre as possible, for all the good it would do me in such a small kitchen.

Hadley was nowhere to be seen. She'd been gone since the Queen had called her war council. I wondered if Hadley was hiding of her own free will or if she'd been told to keep herself scarce. I was about to ask after her when the Queen turned to Eric.

"Who's responsible?"

She wanted to know who the witch was working for. It was a question Eric had been chewing over as well.

"No vampire would do this," he said.

The Queen's eyes flickered to Andre. Then back to Eric. "Really." She didn't sound inquisitive. She sounded like she was testing him.

Eric's face was blank, but that was pretty much par for the course for him. I didn't know if he knew the answer she wanted, or if he was bluffing.

"If a vampire contracted this spell, he'd expose himself to risk," Eric said. He looked at the Queen. "Or herself. Whomever."

Andre looked at Sophie-Anne. From their faces, I had no idea what they were thinking. From Andre's head, I knew he agreed with Eric. I would have kicked Eric under the table to let him know he was on the right tack, if I hadn't thought it would draw attention.

Eric caught me looking at him. I knew he couldn't ask, and I couldn't say, but by the time I looked away, the Queen and Andre had noticed us anyway.

The Queen was smiling.

"I'm in negotiations to marry Peter Threadgill," she said.

No wonder Hadley had been upset. My cousin was the jealous type and I couldn't imagine that she'd kowtow to a rival.

The name obviously meant something to Eric. "Really."

There was a significant pause in which everyone seemed to be exchanging information by glances alone, except for me, who had no idea what was going on.

Eric noticed. "Threadgill is the King of Arkansas," he supplied, for my benefit.

"The witches were from Arkansas," I said.

Sophie-Anne looked at me. "Indeed." She smiled again, and I didn't like it very much.

I should have kept my mouth shut.

"Perhaps you should send someone," Eric said.

"Perhaps," the Queen said.

Andre frowned. He gave the Queen a significant look.

"Perhaps not," she said.

Silence. Then, "Bill was unaffected." Eric paused, as if he was considering his words. "Sookie thought to recall him."

For some reason, that made the Queen smile. Her expression made me want to run and hide. "Bill says you made him very happy."

A chill went down my spine. I remembered what Eric had said outside on the lawn—_If_ _she_ _asks,_ _say_ _you__'__re_ _with_ _Bill_.

"He makes me happy too," I said. As soon as I was out from under the Queen's thumb, Eric had a lot of explaining to do.

* * *

><p>I was surprised that they let us leave. I would have thought we'd be kept on a leash all night. Maybe they wanted to talk freely without Eric or me overhearing. Honestly, a debrief was what I wanted too, even though I was sure that had more questions than Eric was willing to answer.<p>

As we were without a vehicle, Eric asked for the keys to the witch's car. Andre said no, but he did offer Hadley's limousine, which had apparently been their party bus on New Year's Eve. Sophie-Anne said goodnight, we agreed to meet the next morning, and Andre hustled us out the door. I still hadn't seen Hadley.

As Eric backed the limousine out of Jason's driveway—exceptionally slowly—I asked the question that had been eating at me. "Why is the Queen of Louisiana interested in my love life?"

"What did you find in that book?"

That wasn't an answer. "Why is the Queen—"

"Ask Bill." Eric looked upset. I was about to press further, when there was a bump. My teeth rattled around in my head and the back half car slumped downward. Eric had overshot the driveway and backed the limo into some kind of drainage ditch.

"Get out," he said. "I need you to direct me."

It was a convenient way to avoid the Bill issue, but I wanted to put some distance between the Queen and myself, so I exited the car and started to wave Eric out of the driveway. It took a good ten minutes, when it should have taken five. Eric was not a good listener. He kept glaring at me in the mirrors and telling me to stand where he could see me.

As soon as we were out of the ditch and onto the street, I got back in the car. I opened my mouth to ask about Bill, but Eric cut me off.

"I can't stop you from reading my mind," he said. "But I think you'd feel better if you asked him directly."

If anything, that made me feel more unsettled. "This is why you told me to say I'm still with him?"

Eric ignored me. "Tell me about the book."

"Not yet." If I wanted any answers, I had to play quid pro quo. Eric might be mum on Bill, I still had another whopper of a question. "Why did you lie to the Queen?"

"I'm replaceable." His bluntness startled me. He half-smiled. "That's not something you have to worry about."

I wasn't sure if his comment was supposed to be comforting. It didn't feel that way.

I was surprised when Eric kept talking. "The Queen believes we need that witch to break the spell." He hesitated. "I am not sure that she's incorrect."

I didn't know what to say.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't share my reservations with Pam."

I nodded. Telling Pam was the last thing I wanted to do. She had enough to worry about as it was.

"Killing her was a mistake." Eric looked grim.

Maybe. But it was done. Eric wasn't usually one for dwelling on might have beens, which just told me how low he was feeling. "It was an accident."

Eric shrugged. "She's dead, regardless." He turned to me. "The book."

Fair was fair. I passed him the old-timey photograph. He took his eyes off the road to glance at it. "And I care why?"

I'd hoped that he would have more to say than that. "First, Marnie's mother is in it," I said. "According to a note on the back. And second, it was bookmarking a spell called The Living Dead."

Eric was quiet. I could see his wheels turning. "A spell against vampires?"

"No," I said. "A séance kind of thing. Talking to ghosts. But I'm wondering if it could have been repurposed."

Eric wasn't following. "Explain."

"Well, the basic idea is the same, right? Making the dead live again?"

Eric was quiet, then he looked at me. The intensity of his gaze freaked me out. "We need to find a witch."

"Yes." On that we were agreed.

"We also need to tell the Queen."

"You tell her." I wanted to keep my interactions to a minimum.

I heard the crunch of gravel under the tires. My driveway. I'd been so wrapped up in our talk, I hadn't realized we were almost home.

"Are we going to Arkansas?" I didn't have the energy to unpick the significant stares between Andre, the Queen, and Eric. The vampires' inability to communicate like people was an endless source of headaches.

Eric shook his head no. "If anyone goes, it's Bill. Andre is right to council caution. If Threadgill, or any vampire, realized Louisiana is compromised—"

He didn't finish his thought. He didn't need to. I knew the stakes.

Speaking of Bill, his car was parked outside my home. Eric must have recalled him from New Orleans.

Eric noticed me noticing. "I asked him here."

It was fine with me. The last hour had felt like a lifetime. Bill had to be brought up to speed. And, apparently, the two of us had a lot to discuss.

Eric parked the car. He sat for a second, then killed the engine. He looked at me. He was acting strange, but I didn't have the energy to puzzle it out. I reached for the door handle, but he hit the automatic locks. I unlocked it manually. He locked it again.

He was such a jerk, sometimes. "What?"

Eric seemed to be chewing over something. "You will find out, regardless." He seemed to be talking more to himself than to me.

"What?" I said again, and this time I was worried, more than pissed. Anything that made Eric think so hard was probably something I wouldn't like.

Eric nodded over my shoulder. "Ask him why he came back to Bon Temps."

I turned. Bill was silhouetted in my front doorway. He must have heard us drive in.

I already knew the answer. "Old Man Compton—"

"No." Eric got out of the car. Somewhere in there, he'd unlocked the doors.

Bill started towards us.

I followed Eric. I was just about to ask him what the hell was going on when he turned to Bill, "We saw the Queen. I couldn't say on the phone."

Bill stopped in his tracks. That, more than anything, told me that Eric was on to something.

"She's like me," Eric said to Bill. Then, he turned to me. "I'll be inside."

I nodded. As Eric started towards the house, Bill approached me. They had to pass each other. Neither said anything, but Eric gave Bill a long look I couldn't decode.

Bill stopped walking and turned to stare at Eric's back.

After a few seconds, he turned to me, "Sookie, sweetheart—"

I shook my head. I hadn't been his sweetheart lately. And I didn't want to get into anything until Eric was inside.

I watched Eric open the front door. I waited until he closed it behind him.

Was I going to take Eric's advice?

"You met the Queen?" Bill was after something, but I couldn't tell what.

Oh hell, I was through with thinking. I was too wiped to be anything other than direct. "Why did you come back to Bon Temps?"

Bill stared at me. I got nothing from his face. And, blessedly, nothing from his head. The silence felt good after non-stop shielding. Too good.

"Sookie." Bill hesitated. Why would he hesitate? "I've told you. Old Man Compton—"

He hesitated again.

"Sookie," Bill said, like it was an apology.

I felt sick. Shuddery all over. I knew. But I had to hear him say it.

A weird calm came over me.

I started over. "Why did you come back to Bon Temps?"


	16. The Ladies'

_So… it's been a while. Apologies, folks. As always, real world commitments stack up. I hope to keep to a more regular posting schedule in the coming weeks. Plus, we're on the home stretch. This should top out in a few more chapters. Happy holidays and thanks for sticking with it._

_If you haven't already, please check out the holiday fic exchange over at Sookie's Secret Santa. 40+ authors participated and there's a lot of great stories._

* * *

><p>Warm hands brushed over me.<p>

"No." I shut my eyes. I didn't want to see anyone. I didn't want to talk. I'd locked my bedroom door for a reason.

"Tough." Pam's voice. Something warm near my lips. A cup. "Drink."

I shook my head. Never trust a vampire.

"It's tea." She pressed the cup to my mouth.

It was easier to drink than fight.

The liquid burned on the way down. I felt warm. Loose-limbed. Almost happy.

"Tea?" Never trust a vampire.

Pam didn't answer. My bed creaked and, the next thing I knew, she was lying beside me. "Sookie, we didn't know."

"I don't care." But I really did. I'd have killed them both if they'd even had an inkling.

Silence. I could feel her breath on the back of my neck.

Pam put her arm around me.

I froze from the shock of it. She didn't let go and, on instinct, I relaxed. Somehow, that made it even worse. All I could think of was Bill. How many times had we lain in bed together, just like this?

"Pam, stop."

She let go.

I couldn't stand being awake anymore. I closed my eyes. Willed sleep.

We lay in silence for what felt like forever. As I drifted off, I could have sworn she said, "It gets easier."

But how would she know?

* * *

><p>When I woke up, my world was spinning.<p>

I tried to move, but I was strapped in.

I opened my eyes.

I was sitting in the back of an empty car. Seatbelt pulled tight.

It was enough to jerk me out of my stupor. I fumbled at the belt. It unhitched. I grabbed the lock. The door opened.

Thank god.

Last I remembered, I'd been in bed with Pam. Had I been kidnapped? Was that even possible? Pam was ruthless. She'd have fought anyone that came after us.

I threw open the door and was almost blinded by sunlight.

"Easy." A figure knelt next to me. My head was pounding. As my eyes adjusted to the light, the figure resolved itself into Eric. "You're okay."

I'd never been so relived to see him.

"Where am I?"

"Don't worry about it." He pushed a strand of hair out of my face. His voice sounded almost gentle.

With every moment of wakefulness, my mind got clearer. I was on a ride I obviously hadn't signed up for. Worry was the first thing I needed to do.

I tried again. "Where am I?"

"Arkansas," said Eric.

I just about flipped a shit. "Shut up." Sue me, but I was too upset for tact.

Eric pointed over his shoulder. We were at a rest stop and, sure enough, the pole out front flew the Arkansas state flag.

"Pam wanted a snack," he said, by way of explanation.

So Pam was along for the ride. Thank god. I couldn't take Eric alone. Not today. But there were two pursues in the seat next to me, neither of which looked familiar. Last I checked, Eric didn't carry a handbag.

"It's just the three of us?"

His silence was a clear enough no.

Then, I caught sight of the interloper over his shoulder. "Hey Sookie."

Hadley was two steps out of the rest stop, wearing a miniskirt and a megawatt grin.

* * *

><p>To an outside observer, it might have looked like Eric, Pam, and I were having a friendly chat at the rest stop Roy Rodgers. Just three travelers, kicking back over fries.<p>

I'll give you the inside view.

I was a prisoner.

As soon as I saw Hadley, I left the car. I didn't scream. I didn't make a scene. But there was no way I was getting within five feet of her. I had forty dollars in my wallet. I figured it was enough for a bus ticket to Bon Temps. If not, it would more than bankroll a phone call to Jason.

Oh god. Jason. As of last night, he was missing.

I had to call him, whether I could afford the bus or not.

I was halfway to the payphone when Eric grabbed my arm and rerouted me to the food court. As he pushed me into a booth, Pam appeared out of nowhere to box me in.

"I need to call my brother."

"After we talk." Eric took the seat across from me.

I was trapped.

What could I do? Wrestle Eric? Outrun Pam? Even human, they were a hell of a lot stronger than me. I thought about making eye contact with the state trooper at the next table and mouthing _kidnapping_, but I wasn't that desperate. Yet. Because if I ratted out Eric and Pam, how long would it be before the Queen caught up with me? I wasn't sure I'd make it out of Arkansas, let alone back to Bon Temps. Plus, I couldn't kid myself that Hadley had my back.

Last night had made that much clear.

I didn't hate Hadley; I hated what she'd done.

Maybe it was because her dad left or maybe it was just the way God made her, but as long as I'd known Hadley, she'd been starved for attention. She'd pursued it in high school: first as a cheerleader, then as Bon Temps' lone Goth. I could only imagine she'd been as desperate to hold on to the Queen.

I understood, but I couldn't forgive. I didn't hate her, but I didn't want to see her. Ever.

I knew I ought to let it go. It was the Christian thing to do.

These days, I wasn't a very good Christian.

Being on a car trip with Hadley rubbed salt on the wound. Which begged the question of why I was on this trip at all. Calling it a "trip" was itself questionable. I'd been moved without my consent. Last time I checked, that was the definition of kidnapping.

I'd had it up to here, and then some, with the vamps. Eric obviously needed my help. My guess was that he wanted me to read someone's mind. Risk my life. You know, the usual. Whatever it was, I wouldn't like it. Think about it: why would Eric drag me to Arkansas?

Because he knew I'd say no if he asked.

"You'll be back tomorrow," Eric was saying. "One day. That's all I need."

He said 'one day' like it was nothing, like he hadn't already stolen a week of my life. Not to mention that I was on the schedule for Merlotte's tonight. What were the odds that Eric had called Sam?

Zip. Zilch. A snowball's chance in hell.

The kidnapping and the shift-missing weren't even the worst of it. I couldn't believe Eric had brought Hadley. Did he think I'd be happy to see her? How could I be, after last night? It wasn't just cruel; it was stupid. How would seeing Hadley make me anything other than unwilling to help him?

"Why is she here?" There was no need to specify she. Eric knew who I meant.

He was quiet. "Queen's orders," he said, finally.

Translation: shut up and stop asking questions.

Maybe Eric was trying to scare me by mentioning the Queen. Or, maybe it was the truth. Frankly, I didn't care. Not anymore. After last night, I was through with the Queen's orders.

I was just through.

"I quit."

Eric's face went blank.

I spelled it out for him. "No mindreading. No help."

He looked furious. "You think I'll let you go?"

No.

But I couldn't live like this anymore. I'd never been so tired, in mind or body. A lot had happened to me in the past year, but I'd never felt so worn out. I'd never been so humiliated. I thought I'd had my heart broken, but until last night, I hadn't understood what that meant.

I had to draw a line. I needed control of my life. I wouldn't be hurt again. I wouldn't be made a fool.

Did I quit? God, did I ever want to. But I wanted control even more. I wanted Hadley gone and I wanted to know what the hell Eric had signed me up for. I wanted an assurance he'd never take me on a surprise "trip" again. Eric was a tough nut to crack, but he would crack. He'd compromise if he thought he had no other options.

I had to corner him first. I had to convince Eric I was too worn out to care—that I was through working with him, consequences be damned. It wouldn't be a stretch. I was damn well near the breaking point.

When Eric realized I was serious, I hoped he'd stop threatening and start giving ground. Intimidation only went so far: an unwilling telepath was an unreliable one. Eric would be better off calling Miss Cleo. And he didn't have time for uncertainty. He needed answers. If he wanted to see the inside of a coffin again, he needed my help.

Threatening Eric was a risk, but I knew I could count on his sense of self-preservation. Betting on Eric watching out for Eric was among the safest wagers I could make.

I stared him down.

He seemed rattled.

Good.

"Forget about me," he said. "You think the Queen will let you go?" He paused. "She went to such lengths to find you."

I felt like he'd slapped me. Even Pam flinched. "Eric."

He gave her a look—clearly, _shut up_. She sat back, cowed. It made my blood boil. Who did he think he was? He might be her maker, but he didn't own her.

He didn't own me, either.

Eric was as angry as I'd ever seen him. That was fine. I was just as mad, and I was discovering that I preferred fury to last night's despair. I needed to know what the hell was going on. I was sick of his selective retellings. I was through letting him call the shots. I needed control of my own life.

I dropped my shields. His thoughts flooded my head.

_Her brother. The woman from Dallas. The waitress. The shifter, maybe._

Jason, Tara, Arlene, Sam.

Eric was making a list of people I cared about.

If I could have killed him with my bare hands, I would've have leaned across the table and done it.

I had to make do with words. "What will be worse for you? Aging or dying?"

The question was moot. If the curse was permanent, it was unlikely that Eric would live to grow old. But as a threat, it served its purpose, because Eric looked at me and, in that moment, I think he hated me as much as I hated him.

Eric thought about me reading his mind, Bill pinning him against the wall, and said, "Neither."

I was thrown.

I hadn't expected an answer from him, let alone an honest one.

What had I learned in the past week? Eric would risk his life for a plan, and risk the plan to avoid glamour. Death didn't faze him as much as vulnerability. His demands might make me hate him, but each demand was an attempt to hang on to control.

He was as desperate as I was.

I felt sorry for him. Almost.

I could hardly believe it was possible.

I opened my mouth to say something—maybe call a truce—but then his thoughts came at me, fast, like he was pushing them.

Bill pinning him against the wall. Bill in his coffin. Bill, last night. Bill and me in Fangtasia. Bill, in Eric's office, drinking the blood of a woman I didn't recognize. Bill, Bill, Bill.

I stood up.

"I have to—"

I couldn't finish. I had to not be here.

* * *

><p>I locked the bathroom stall behind me and dropped my head in my hands.<p>

It was the first time I'd been alone since last night. I wanted to cry but I felt too goddamn exhausted. Maybe I was cried out.

I couldn't stomach going back to face Eric. Let alone Hadley.

Pam was outside my stall door. I was watching her feet. She was wearing a pair of my sneakers. She hadn't asked to borrow them.

Neither Pam nor Eric had stopped me when I left their booth, but he'd given her a nod. She'd tailed me. Like a well-trained dog.

Not that I should talk. I was on a leash too. Eric was right. They were never going to let me go. I wanted to scream, but I was too tired. I was tired down to my bones. Plus, screaming wouldn't do any good. I had to be smart. But I didn't have the energy to think. I felt emptied out. My bluffing plan had gone to shit.

I thought I'd reached bottom last night. I'd had no idea.

Through a crack in the door, I watched Pam drag the trashcan across the floor and wedge it under the front latch. Having successfully transformed a public restroom into a prison, she rapped on my stall. "This isn't Eric's fault."

That was the last conversation I wanted to have right now.

"The Queen insisted Hadley come," Pam said. "Eric fought it. He thought it would make you react— well, like this."

Good for Eric, realizing that something upsetting would upset me. Real depth of insight, there. I would have expected as much from the Queen, honestly.

"She wants her own person along. Supervision." Pam paused. "Trust among vampires is limited, Sookie."

I'd never noticed.

"She won't spare Andre. Who else does she have?"

I could think of alternatives. "Those big guys—"

"Attract attention wherever they go."

So did Hadley, if her past behavior was any indication. Plus, last I heard, the ex-vamps were planning to stay put. Not going anywhere, and particularly, not Arkansas. "What happened to lying low?"

"Eric showed the Queen what you found."

If the romance novel had made the Queen buy into Eric's idiotic plan of driving to Arkansas and knocking on Marnie's front door, she must be desperate to the point of delusion.

"Come out and he'll tell you everything."

That would be a first.

It was also a bald-faced lie. If Eric was truly going to tell me 'everything,' Pam could have just spilled the beans herself.

And those beans needed spilling.

Last night, I'd been burned—not just burned, made a fool—because I hadn't had information I was entitled to. I'd be damned if I was going to let Eric bully me into a dangerous situation blind. He was taking care of himself. I had to do the same.

For the second time since I'd woken up, I lowered my shields. Pam's thoughts hovered right beyond mine.

I reached out and grabbed them.

She was thinking about hotels. North, near Memphis. Threadgill. The name sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it. Before I could net more, Pam's thoughts flickered to me. She wanted me out of the stall. Her patience was dwindling. Fast.

I gave her a nudge. "Where are you taking me?"

Again, her thoughts turned to Threadgill. The hotels. North, near Memphis. "Sookie, the sooner you help, the sooner this ends."

"What's Threadgill?"

Silence from Pam. "You're reading my mind."

Yes, I was. And I had it—Peter Threadgill, King of Arkansas.

Jesus.

The will just drained out of me.

"Leave me alone. Please." I sounded like poor, pitiful Pearl, but I was too tired to care. If they were driving me to Peter Threadgill—and it seemed that they were—Eric had forced me into a suicide mission. I couldn't fight anymore. If I was going to die, I might as well do it here. On my own terms.

In a rest stop bathroom.

God help me.

I was glad Gran couldn't see me now.

The latch started jiggling. I tried to grab it, hold it still, but the lock was either too cheap or Pam was too strong. The door clicked, swung open, and suddenly she was staring at me.

She looked furious.

"Get over it." She was thinking about Eric. Bill.

Get over it? Last time I checked, I couldn't switch off my feelings. If I could, my life would be a hell of a lot easier.

"It only hurts as much as you let it."

Who did she think she was? Dear Abby? "Stuff it, Pam."

I thought the rebuke would piss her off, but instead, she smiled. Wide.

I felt like I had whiplash.

"Get up," she said. "Before I get angry."

She didn't sound angry. She sounded almost fond.

"Get up," she said, again.

She was looking at me and thinking of herself.


	17. White Knight

_Happy 2012!_

* * *

><p>I had no trouble finding Eric. He didn't exactly blend in. A six and a half foot tall Viking is eye catching, even at a rest area-cum-truck stop where big guys aren't exactly in short supply.<p>

It wasn't only Eric's size that set him apart. Most of the other men wore coats and baseball hats, but Eric was bareheaded, in shirtsleeves. Maybe he hadn't felt the cold for 1000 years, but it was January, for goodness sake. He looked half-dressed. And although I'd never seen Eric in a hat, but I was pretty sure that he should start wearing one, particularly in public. His hair was like a beacon.

Eric was waiting in the Roy Rodgers booth where Pam and I had left him. He'd propped up his feet and made himself at home. He seemed relaxed, until I realized that his back was to the wall and he was eyeballing the exits. His eyes snapped to me as soon as I left the bathroom.

Eric smiled when he realized I was headed his way.

Please. As if there was anywhere else I'd be going.

"Thanks, Sookie," he said, as I sat down.

I ignored him. Eric wouldn't know gratitude if it bit him on his aggravatingly nice behind. I wasn't interested in his fake thanks. Plus, his appreciation was premature. Pam might have coaxed me out of the bathroom, but I hadn't committed to helping them. Yet.

Pam was a few steps behind me. She took a chair between Eric and me, almost as if she were a referee. That's not to say that I'd ever consider Pam impartial. I had no illusions as to where her loyalties lay. She was on my side only so long as it lined up with Eric's.

That was fine. If I'd learned one thing from this week, it was that I had to take care of myself. No one was watching out for me—not Pam, not Bill, and certainly, not Eric.

He wanted my help. I wanted concessions. It didn't take a genius to figure out what needed to happen.

I opened the negotiations. "Send Hadley home."

Eric didn't miss a beat. "One of us will watch her. Your interactions will be kept to minimum."

I was thrown. I hadn't expected him to compromise, or at least, not so quickly. In fact, I'd been bracing myself for a flat-out no, that I'd have to slowly—painfully—chip away at.

Maybe Eric had given ground to set me off balance. Or maybe it was a genuine offer. Was he desperate? Or trying to box me into a corner?

There was only one way to find out.

I dropped my shields.

Eric was furious—at me, at Hadley, but most of all, at the Queen. Pam hadn't lied. Sophie-Anne insisted that Eric take Hadley. The Queen framed it as if she were doing him a favor. Loaning him an extra pair of fangs.

Fangs or no, I wasn't sure how useful Hadley would be. Unless a lot had changed since I'd known her, I couldn't imagine that she'd be much help as a fighter.

Pam assumed that the Queen sent Hadley as a spy—she told me as much in the bathroom—but I wasn't convinced. I knew my cousin, and I couldn't imagine that she'd make a reliable informant. Honesty wasn't exactly Hadley's strong suit. As long as I'd known her, she'd twisted the truth to suit her whims. If all the Queen wanted was a source independent from Eric, why not use Andre? They obviously had a creepy co-dependent thing going, but I found it hard to believe she couldn't spare him for a day.

In short, I didn't buy Pam's spy idea. Neither did Eric.

I liked his theory even less than Pam's.

Eric was sure that Hadley's presence had something to do with me.

He assumed the Queen was playing the long game. He wasn't sure what her plan was, but he knew he wouldn't like it. Why else would Sophie-Anne have kept the details from him?

Eric wanted nothing more than to pack Hadley back to Bon Temps. But he couldn't do it without challenging the Queen.

He didn't know what was going on. And it pissed him off.

He could join the flipping club.

As Eric seethed, I reconsidered his offer. Having Eric or Pam babysit Hadley was a far cry from sending her back to Bon Temps, but it was an undeniable improvement over the hellish reunion I'd been imagining. Plus, I wasn't sure that I'd get a better offer. Eric wasn't top dog. He could only do so much. Keeping Hadley out of my hair might be the best he could give me.

I had to take what I could get.

The Queen wasn't stupid. Hadley was on this trip for a reason. I hoped to God the reason had nothing to do with me, but I had a sinking feeling that Eric was right.

Especially given last night.

I didn't want to think about it. I couldn't think about it. At least, not yet. Maybe, not ever. But my blinders had been ripped off and I couldn't pretend that my situation was anything other than what it was.

Eric wanted to know what was going on, but I needed to know.

I needed to know a lot of things. Starting with why he'd dragged me to Arkansas.

"What are we doing here?"

Hope rose in Eric's thoughts, although he kept his face blank. He'd interpreted my subject change as acquiescence. "So, we're agreed."

Nice try, buddy. "Not until I know what I'm agreeing to."

Eric smiled. It was small, almost like he couldn't help it, and gone before I could figure out why. I shelved it away to think about later.

He slid a piece of paper across the table. I recognized it as the photograph of maids, waiters, and valets I'd found tucked alongside Marnie's living dead spell. A note on the back identified one of the maids as Marnie's mother.

Eric jabbed his finger at the top of the photo. "Look."

I was already looking, thanks very much. The staff posed on a grand staircase. Eric was pointing at a banner strung above them. I had to squint to read it. _Poindexter Palace._

Okay. "So?"

"It's still around." Pam put a brochure on the table. It was show and tell time. The title read—you guessed it—_Poindexter Palace_. Below it was a picture of a grand looking house with a wraparound porch. "Hotel," she said. "Up north, near Tennessee."

I didn't need to be Sherlock Holmes to put the pieces together. "We're going to a place where Marnie's mother worked fifty years ago?" I didn't bother hide my skepticism. As far as leads went, this one was pathetic.

"Queen's orders." Eric said, like it ended the argument.

He only wished it did. The Queen might be desperate, but she wasn't an idiot. She wouldn't send her people into enemy territory for the sake of a family history lesson. "What aren't you telling me?"

Pam and Eric looked at each other. I waited for them to speak. The silence stretched.

Experience taught me that the chances of them coughing up the answer I was looking for was zero. That was fine. If they wanted to be adversarial, I was more than happy to give as good as I got.

I dropped my shields. My days of waiting for information handouts were over.

I went for Eric's thoughts first. He'd pissed me off more. Plus, he was louder than Pam, so it took less effort—almost no effort, in fact. I had my answer in a hot half-second.

Peter Threadgill owned Poindexter Palace.

Oh.

I must have been quiet a moment too long, because Eric's eyes narrowed. "Satisfied, Sookie?"

Not even close. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

"And say his name aloud?" Eric smiled, and it wasn't very nice.

I thought Eric was being paranoid, but the intensity of his stare made me question my instincts. I glanced around the food court. I saw guys in baseball caps. Families with kids. Everyone looked normal. Nondescript. I wouldn't peg any of them as vampire spies.

On the other hand, a spy who stood out wouldn't be any good at her job.

"Bill's in Little Rock." Pam gave me a significant look. It took me a second to remember that Little Rock meant Threadgill's court. "Poindexter is a hundred miles north."

"The name on the deed?" Eric paused, and I nodded to show that I understood he meant Threadgill. "Alone, it might not be significant. He's bought up riverfront property. Hotels, casinos. This is one of many. Beyond ownership, it seems like his involvement is limited."

It sounded like Eric was hedging his bets. "So you don't think Marnie was working for him?"

For a second, Eric seemed surprised, but then his face went blank—always a telltale sign that I was on to something. "What do you think?"

What did I think? I thought Eric wouldn't ask me for my opinion without an ulterior motive. But I didn't have a clue as to what that motive was. And frankly, I was too tired to puzzle it out.

I didn't have enough information to form a real opinion on Threadgill. But I did have trouble believing that a vampire would mess with a spell that could turn him human. It would be kind of like Superman playing with kryptonite. In other words: not very smart.

"There are a lot of ways to undermine Louisiana." I chose my words carefully, in deference to Eric's paranoia. "Why choose this one?"

"Why indeed?" Eric was looking at me with something close to admiration.

He agreed with me.

That was all well and good, but why hadn't he come out and said it? Some days, I wondered if he'd been socialized on Mars.

Pam, on the other hand, seemed skeptical. "If she wasn't working for him, this is a big coincidence." It was clear from her tone that she didn't put much stock in chance.

Neither did I, for that matter.

Then it hit me.

Pam was right. The coincidence strained credulity.

Unless someone was trying to frame Peter Threadgill.

But who? And why?

I glanced at Eric, and found him already looking my way. I wanted to run my idea by him, but I couldn't think of a way to phrase it without mentioning Threadgill by name. It would have to wait. Maybe until the car. No, the lot. I didn't want to say anything in front of Hadley.

Pam gave me a curious look. "You all right?"

"Fine." I felt the best I had all day, not that it was saying much. It was nice to have a concrete problem as opposed to floundering in the dark. It was too bad we'd taken so long to get here.

"We're a few hours from the hotel," Pam said. "We ask that you go inside, see what you can get from the staff."

In all, it wasn't a terrible task. There was enough daylight left that I could get in and out before any vampires rose. Peter Threadgill didn't know me from Adam, and there was no reason why any of the Arkansas vampires had to know I was there.

Nothing was ever straightforward with vampires, but this sounded about as easy as a job for them got. In, out, read a few minds, be home before dinnertime.

The job might be simple, but that didn't change the fact that I'd been kidnapped and carried across state lines to do it.

My goodwill evaporated. Suddenly, I just felt tired.

I turned to Eric. "You should have asked me."

"No." He didn't seem remorseful. In fact, he projected total confidence. He believed he'd done the right thing.

The nerve.

I was about to let him have it, but my shields had gone up and down so many times in the last hour, his thoughts just dragged me in.

Eric was thinking about last night. I saw myself in his mind, and I was barely recognizable. My eyes were red, my shoulders hunched. I hardly looked like a person. I hated that he'd seen me. I hated that anyone had seen me, but Eric struck a nerve.

It was obvious why he hadn't asked about Arkansas. I'd been so upset, I'd have probably said no to Gran. That didn't excuse his behavior, but on the other hand, how could I expect Eric to be anything other than self-centered?

He thought he was doing me a favor, getting me out of Bon Temps.

Please. Like he was some big white knight. Eric didn't do favors for anyone but himself. He was generous only when he thought he could finagle something in return. Why had he bought me that driveway? So I'd help him. Do odd jobs. Invite him in when he showed up on my doorstep human.

And look at all the good it had done me.

I hadn't taken Eric in because of the stupid driveway. I'd appreciated it, but not half as much as our rapport. Sure, Eric was selfish, but he was also practical and brave. He came through in a pinch. He wore pink lycra like nobody else.

I'd honestly liked him.

And now?

It was hard to know anymore.

I'd seen a lot of Eric over the past week. A lot of things I didn't like. A lot of things I wouldn't forget.

This latest "favor" was just one more to add to the pile.

I was steamed, but I kept my mouth shut. I didn't have anything to say to Eric that I wouldn't regret later. The longer I stayed around him, the higher the chances I'd come out with it, which would do neither of us any good, especially considering that we were about to get in a car together. That drive was going to be enough fun as it was.

I needed time alone. To breathe. Think. Cool down.

I got to my feet. "We done?"

We were going to the same place, but I'd just as soon walk alone.

"No." Of course, he was going to make things as difficult as possible. I crossed my arms and waited for him to speak. Instead, he nodded at Pam. It was a dismissal.

She gave Eric a significant look, then started towards the exit.

I watched her go. I wanted to follow.

Eric cleared his throat. He seemed uncomfortable. "You're appreciated. What you do."

I just stared at him.

Too little, too late.

Gran taught me never to turn down a hand offered in friendship, but this wasn't friendship. Not really.

I turned and followed Pam out the door.

* * *

><p>On my way out of the rest stop, I caught sight of a rack of brochures. The Poindexter Palace leaflet was front and center. I took one.<p>

_Historic Accommodations, Modern Amenities_, read the subtitle.

On a hunch, I grabbed brochures for anything that looked like a hotel or a casino. Anything with a picture of the Mississippi. I ended up with a stack of a dozen pamphlets. Eric had mentioned that Threadgill was buying up riverfront property. I wasn't sure if the brochures were significant, but as a primer, I figured they couldn't hurt. Maybe they'd spark some ideas. At the worst, it would be light reading for the trip. Papers to hide behind when we were all stuck in the car together.

Before I left, I grabbed a Graceland brochure, just for fun. How could I turn down pictures of Bubba's natural habitat?

When I walked outside, I nearly collided with Pam. She'd planted herself just outside the exit. She glanced at me, then pointed at the lot.

I followed her gaze.

Our car. Smoke billowed from the open hood.

Hadley was leaning over the engine. At least, I thought it was Hadley. All I could see were legs and a miniskirt. A miniskirt with rhinestone-encrusted pockets. It made her butt sparkle.

I can't explain why, but those shiny pockets pissed me off almost as much as Hadley's herself. It was like everything I disliked about her had been condensed into two squares of bejeweled denim.

Hadley was flanked by two men. Two tall men. One wore a state trooper uniform; the other was dressed like a trucker. They looked like refugees from the Village People. They were well-muscled. Handsome. Attentive.

In other words, just Hadley's type.

"Stay." I heard Pam's voice, as if from far away. "Calm down. I'll talk to her."

As Pam peeled off, I felt someone stop behind me. I knew from the long shadow that it was Eric.

Pam approached the car and Hadley straightened. She gestured at the engine. Said something to Pam, who frowned.

"What's going on?" asked Eric.

"Not sure." I watched as Hadley introduced Pam to her hunky trucker, then the equally attractive cop. The officer extended his hand to Pam.

My pulse sped up. Vampires didn't do handshakes.

Pam stared at cop. He looked curious, then—as the moment stretched—increasingly concerned. But, as soon as he opened his mouth to question her, Pam grabbed his hand.

They shook.

The cop smiled. Pam looked ill.

At that point, Hadley caught sight of Eric and me. She grinned. Waved.

"She broke the car on purpose." I didn't know how Hadley did it, and I didn't know I knew, but the suspicion jumped up inside me and, as I stared at her stupid smile, I knew it in my bones to be true.

"Did you read her mind?"

Eric sounded angry. Good.

"No." Not from this far away. But I didn't need to hear Hadley's thoughts. I could tell from the way she was laughing at some joke the trooper made. She put her hand on his chest. Let it linger a moment too long. She was eating up the attention from Hunk 1 and Hunk 2.

I bet the Queen didn't let Hadley flirt with nice, tall men.

I bet the Queen didn't let her do a lot of things.

To Eric, to Pam—the spell was a curse. But I wasn't so sure that Hadley felt the same way. I'd barely spent an hour with her majesty and creepy Andre, but it was enough to last me a lifetime. Hadley was stuck with them. For eternity.

Or, so she'd thought.

What was the first thing she'd done when she came to my house? Lied about why she was there. The second thing?

She'd asked for a beer.

Hadley was living it up.

I bet she felt like she'd gotten out of jail.

A tow truck rolled into the rest stop. Hadley's trucker waved it over to them, not that the extra guidance was necessary. Ours was the only smoking car in the lot. But he seemed eager to be useful. Eager to impress Hadley.

"Don't confront her." Eric was watching the trucker. He looked grim. "I'll handle it."

Something about Eric looked different, but before I could put my finger on it, he started towards Hadley. As I fell into step behind him, I realized that he'd found himself a baseball hat.


	18. Lucky 13

Chickasaw, Arkansas. Population 544.

One service station. No car rentals. Three liquor stores.

Or, at least that's how many I counted on the walk from the mechanic to the only motel in town.

We were stuck. Stuck in one of the only towns in Arkansas without bus service. Stuck for 24 to 48 hours or however long it took to get our engine repaired. We'd sprung a leak. Coolant was dripping into the radiator. Or the transmission. Or vice versa. Honestly, I was fuzzy on the details. Once the mechanic said the repair would take a full day, I'd been too busy blocking out Eric's murderous thoughts to catch specifics.

The mechanic had been amazed we'd been able to drive at all.

I was amazed that Hadley had been so audacious.

I'd bet anything that the leak hadn't been there when we left Bon Temps. Or when we parked at the rest stop. As soon as Eric, Pam and I had gone inside, Hadley seized her opportunity. Why she'd stalled us, I wasn't sure. But I intended to find out.

I took some small consolation in the fact that Hadley's afternoon wasn't going according to plan, either. She'd been sulking ever since the rest stop. Eric's method of dismissing her suitors had been unconventional, to say the least: as soon as we'd reached the car, he'd slung his arm around Hadley. She'd given him a stink eye, but the damage was done. Since Hadley hadn't been sending out the attached vibe, her suitors' interest quickly turned to trepidation. When Eric said he'd handle the car, neither man argued.

Hadley had pitched a fit as soon as they left, but Eric told her to take it up with Sophie-Anne, which effectively killed all discussion. We'd ridden to the mechanic in silence, and now we were trudging into town the same way.

If you've never had the pleasure of strolling along a highway, know that they are not made for pedestrian traffic. Every car that passed seemed to be going faster than the next.

I was dreading the next 24 to 48 hours, but I wasn't even sure I'd make it through the next ten minutes.

Hadley broke the silence.

"This place looks fun." Next to liquor store number four was a roadhouse with blacked-out windows. It was only early afternoon, but trucks crowded the dirt lot. The nearest had metal balls hanging from its back fender.

It looked like the opposite of fun.

The hand-painted sign out front read _Sam's_.

There was only one explanation.

The universe was taunting me.

Sam's roadhouse was a reminder that I wasn't going to make it into work tonight. Or tomorrow. Or the next day, if my bad luck held out.

I couldn't afford to miss shifts, but as bad as lost income was, leaving Sam in a pinch felt worse. He'd have a tough job finding a replacement, especially on such short notice. The least I could do was make things easy on him.

As we continued down the road, I pulled out my cell and hit number four on speed dial. Arlene picked up on the first ring, thank god. I wouldn't have felt right calling Sam without a solution in the bag.

"Sookie. How you been, girl?"

"Busy," was an understatement. "I need a favor."

Silence. Arlene probably knew where this was going. Lord knows I'd gotten this call from her often enough. "Honey, you know I would, but Coby and Lisa are out of school."

"I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important." I was marooned in Arkansas. I couldn't have made my shift if I tried. "I'm in—"

A look from Eric stopped me midsentence.

"Nashville," I said, picking a place out of midair.

"What the heck are you doing there?"

I fumbled for an explanation. "It was kind of spur of the moment."

"Who is he?" Arlene read between lines I hadn't been writing. She sounded gleeful— Sookie Stackhouse running off with some man was worth a week of gossip at least. "I thought you were done with Vampire Bill."

"I am." I said, too loud. Sue me, but I'd be perfectly happy never hearing Bill's name again. Judgment day would be too soon. "There's no man."

"You can trust me. Why didn't you say anything the other night?"

Romance was the furthest thing from my mind. I opened my mouth to tell Arlene so—then stopped.

Her story explained my absence, and if I knew Arlene, she'd spread it all over town. My pride would take a hit, but it would be worth it so long as no one connected my disappearance to that of the state's vampires. It wasn't as if I had much of a reputation to protect, anyway.

I wasn't a stranger to gossip. I've heard it all before, and then some. I've heard the things people don't say aloud.

Maybe the best thing I could do was let rumor take its course. I didn't have to confirm or deny. Mystery would only pique Arlene's interest.

"I'm probably gone for another day. Maybe two. I'm on the schedule for dinner tonight. Tomorrow lunch. Look, I'll make up for you. Next week, whenever you want."

Silence from Arlene. I held my breath. I knew she didn't want to take my shifts, but I really needed her. If she didn't help me, I'd try Holly, but we weren't all that close. Arlene was my best shot.

She knew it too.

"I could use some help round the trailer," she said, finally.

"I'll bring my cleaning gloves." It was only fair. This was last minute, after all.

I felt prickling on the back of my neck. I turned around. Eric was listening. He looked ticked off. I had no idea why, but frankly, I was through caring. The man was moodier than Scarlett O'Hara.

"Who am I to stand in the way of young love?" Arlene said.

Love was one word for it. Scandal would be more accurate. As soon as Arlene got off the phone with me. she'd call half of Bon Temps. I didn't want to think about it. What's done was done. She'd agreed to take my shifts, and she'd given me an alibi. That was the important thing.

"You're a lifesaver."

"Don't you forget it," she said, and hung up.

"Who was that?" Eric sounded pissed. Whether at me, or the world, I wasn't sure.

It wasn't any of his business, but it was easier to answer than fight. "My friend Arlene." I should have left it at that, but I was feeling low about the gossip, so I indulged in a little self-pity. "I was supposed to work tonight."

I left the second part of the sentence unsaid—_I was supposed to work, until you kidnapped me._

Eric got the message anyway. He glared at me, glared at my phone, then turned back to the road.

* * *

><p>"Two rooms," I said. "Two beds."<p>

"We only got Queens."

'Queen' made me start, even though the clerk meant beds, not vampire royalty.

"Fine." You couldn't fight city hall. Or the man at the motel desk. Pam and I could share a bed. As could Eric and Hadley. She'd probably come on to him.

It wasn't my problem.

There was only one motel in Chickasaw. Thankfully, it had a full slate of open rooms. I couldn't imagine that it got much traffic, outside of the occasional trucker. Another blessing: the rooms were cheap and the management knew better than to ask for identifying information. I did have to leave a $10 deposit for linens.

The clerk gave me sheets, towels, and the keys to rooms 12 and lucky 13. The ex-vamps were waiting for me outside. Eric decided they should minimize their public exposure and, for once, I agreed with him.

I'd checked in, but I wasn't in any hurry to meet up with Eric. I had to call Sam and I didn't know the next time I'd be alone, so I decided to seize the opportunity. I wasn't going to give Eric a chance to eavesdrop if I could help it. He'd been far too interested in my talk with Arlene. Motel reception had a ladies' room with a lock on the door, which gave me the privacy I needed.

Sam picked up after a few rings. "Sookie?"

I heard muffled voices in the background. There wasn't a clock around, but I figured that it had to be the tail end of the lunch rush. The hubbub sounded familiar. Reassuring.

Right then, I'd have given just about anything to be back at Merlotte's. One of the voices in the crowd. Slinging hash beat vampires any day of the week.

And there I went again. Feeling sorry for myself. It wasn't making my life any easier. In fact, I was only dragging out the inevitable.

I took a deep breath and came clean. "Sam, I'm in Nashville."

Sam was more worried than upset, especially after I told him Arlene would cover my shifts. I knew he wouldn't swallow the whirlwind romance lie, so I told him I had a family emergency and I couldn't say more. I'm not sure if he believed me, especially since Jason was my only family to speak of, but he knew better than to press. I felt rotten lying to him, but it couldn't be helped. It was for his own good. The less Sam knew about the vampires' troubles, the better.

"Have you seen Jason?" I asked, just as we were about to hang up.

"Not since New Year's," said Sam, and my heart dropped into my stomach. "He's not in Nashville?"

"Nope." Neither was I, but that was another story. "Keep your eyes out. He's dropped off the map and I'm worried sick."

"Want me to swing by his house?"

"No," slipped out, too loud and fast. The Queen and Andre were holed up at Jason's. If Sam saw them, he was as good as dead. "Promise me you won't." It wasn't a normal request, but I couldn't see a way around it. Enough had gone wrong this week. If Sam got caught up with the vampires, I wouldn't forgive myself.

He was smart enough to realize that something was wrong. "Sookie, what's going on?"

"Promise me."

"Not until you—"

"Sam." I wasn't taking no for an answer.

Silence. Then, "Okay."

He didn't sound happy about it.

"If you see Jason, tell him to call me."

Sam was quiet. "Sookie, if you need help, know I'm a phone call away."

I wanted nothing more than to ask Sam to come get me, but I forced myself to say, "I'm fine." From his silence, I knew he didn't believe me. "I'll see you in a few days, okay?"

I could feel the tears gathering, so I hung up. The last thing I needed was for Sam to hear me cry.

* * *

><p>It took me a good five minutes to cry myself dry, then another five to pat the redness out of my face. When I'd gotten myself under control, I tried Jason's cell.<p>

It went straight to voicemail.

I tried again.

Voicemail.

I made a list of people to call. Hoyt Fortenberry. Catfish Hennessy. If that yielded nothing, I could start on Jason's girlfriends. Starting with his most current. What was her name? Something with a K. Kristen or Kelly.

Then it hit me.

Hadley knew. She'd met her.

Hadley said Jason's new girlfriend had stopped by his house, just after he disappeared. Hadley had answered the door, and they'd talked. She had to know the woman's name. Maybe girlfriend left a phone number.

I'd have been as happy as kid on Christmas if I never had to speak to Hadley again, but there wasn't any way around it. Plus, there was no time like the present. The vamps were still in the parking lot, waiting for me. If I knew Eric, he'd be getting antsy.

I checked my reflection in the mirror on my way out. My eyes were red, but it couldn't be helped. Mostly, I looked normal.

They'd never know I'd been crying.

* * *

><p>It took me ten seconds to find the vamps. They weren't outside the office where I'd left them, but Eric was the tallest thing in the parking lot so, for once, he made my life easy. He was still wearing his baseball hat—red, for the Arkansas Razorbacks. He must have bought it at the rest stop. Either that, or he swiped it off a bystander.<p>

I figured I was better off not knowing.

Eric, Pam, and Hadley were clustered around a murky looking swimming pool. Given that it was January, I was surprised to see it open. As I got closer, I figured it had more to do with the management's apathy than a commitment to year-round amenities. The pool was choked with leaves and old beer cans. Hadley sat by the side, dangling a hand in the water. I bit my tongue. Technically, she was an adult. It was her funeral.

She gave me a big grin. "Hey, Sookie."

It took all my self-control to nod back. I handed Eric the key for lucky 13. No way was I taking that room. I had enough problems as is. "I got one night."

"It's all we need," he said, as if he could make it so by willpower alone.

"I need a shower," Hadley announced, getting to her feet. As she stretched, her shirt rode up to bare her middle. Her stomach was perfectly flat. I watched her with more envy than I care to admit. Jealousy doesn't make me proud, but sometimes I can't help myself. "Where's our key, Sookie?"

So Hadley assumed we were staying together. That would happen over my dead body.

Before I could say anything, Eric passed Hadley his key. "Make yourself at home." He gave her a look—a clear dismissal.

She hesitated.

"Sookie will meet you there," he said.

Hadley glared at him. Maybe it was leftover anger from the trucker and trooper incident. "I'll need a towel."

I handed her one, along with half the sheets.

"Thanks." She smiled at me, a little too broad.

I forced a, "Sure thing."

When Hadley was out of earshot, I said, "No way am I staying with her."

"Would you rather I tell her out here?" Eric's implication was clear. Tell her in public, and she'd cause a scene. Better let it go down behind closed doors.

"Fine," I said, because he was right. And because he'd made it his problem.

"Settle in," he said. "But I want to talk with you."

"Okay," I said, but only because I couldn't see any way around it, especially with adjoining rooms. I wasn't thrilled about the prospect of a tête-à-tête with Eric, but on the bright side, it would give me an opportunity to make sure that I'd scraped all available information about Peter Threadgill from his thoughts.

And speaking of chats that had to happen, I needed to grill Hadley about Jason's girlfriend.

Shoot.

I'd rather talk to Eric, and that was saying something.

"I need a nap," I said, to no one in particular.

What were the odds I'd get it?

* * *

><p>Pam helped me make our bed, then gallantly allowed me the first shower. I've often thought there are few ailments that a hot shower can't cure, but I must have been suffering from them, because try as I might, I couldn't knock the cricks out of my neck or the worries from my head. My mind kept wandering back to Jason, and before I knew it, I was tearing up. I had to turn off the water and take a few deep breaths to get myself under control. If I lost it, I'd be no help to anyone, least of all my brother.<p>

I had to talk to Hadley. Get Jason's girlfriend's name.

Else I was going to go crazy.

I wrapped a towel around myself. I stepped out of the bathroom to find Pam sitting on the bed, waiting. Her hands were folded, ankles crossed. It was almost as if she'd been in downtime. When she saw me, she smiled. Wide. Her appreciation was clear. Fangs were the only thing missing.

"Pam." I could feel a flush rising. "Quit."

Pam pointedly did not quit. Instead, she looked me up and down. "Why are you ashamed?" she said. "You are a beautiful woman."

I didn't have the energy for this. Not today. "Turn around, please." I said, and she did. She was smiling, almost as if she were amused that I'd make such a request.

Modesty: so funny.

I've never thrown on a dress so quickly in my life.

When I turned around, Pam still had her back to me.

"You can stop," I said, then tacked on a belated, "Thanks."

"I am not the only one who thinks so," Pam said, and it took me a second to realize she was back to the creepy compliments.

"I don't want to talk about it." And I didn't. Not today. And not with a vampire.

Not after last night.

I ran a comb through my hair. "I have to talk to Hadley."

I was out the door, before Pam could ask why.

It was only a few feet to Room 13. I knocked. Eric answered.

Then stared.

"You're wet." He was eyeing me with almost as much interest as Pam.

"That's what happens when you shower." I tried to ignore the feel of his eyes on me. "Hadley here?"

Eric's eyes flickered back to my face. "Why?"

"My brother."

"He's still missing?"

I was surprised that he remembered. I nodded, because I didn't trust myself to say anything out loud. My composure still felt fragile.

"She's at the pool," he said.

I wasn't sure Eric should leave Hadley unattended, but I didn't want to get into it with him. Not now, at least. Not while I was soaking wet and he wouldn't stop staring at me.

I nodded and left.

I could feel his eyes on me, across the lot.

* * *

><p>I found Hadley talking to a guy with a buzz cut and a sleeve tattoo. He was wearing red trunks that could have been a swimsuit, but were probably boxers. Hadley was still in her sparkly miniskirt.<p>

They were two cans into a six-pack of tallboys.

Hadley made friends fast.

"Hey, Beau," she said, as I approached, "this here's my cousin Sookie."

I'd never seen anyone who looked less like a Beau, but I forced myself to smile at him.

He looked me up and down. "Looks like you brought your own pool."

The comment made me self-conscious, so I pulled my wet hair into a knot. It had run streaks down the front of my dress, and Beau's eyes, of course, focused on my neckline. Damn it. When Gran said I shouldn't leave the house with a wet head, I doubted this was the kind of situation she'd been imagining. Her advice nevertheless stood.

"Sit." My impromptu wet tee show had turned Beau into a Sookie fan. Ick. He pointed to a chair next to Hadley. "Bar's open."

"No thanks." I tried to sound polite and not repulsed. "Hadley, can I talk to you?"

She exchanged a look with Beau. "Sure."

Hadley brought a tallboy with her.

I led her into the lot. Beau was watching with interest, so I put a pickup between him and us. I couldn't imagine he'd be able to overhear.

"Smoke?" Hadley produced cigarettes from one of her bejeweled pockets.

"No, thanks," I said, as she lit up. I wanted to get in and out of this conversation as quickly as possible. "You met Jason's girlfriend?"

I might as well have asked the nearby pickup truck, because Hadley ignored me. "Eric says you're upset with me."

No shit. But I wasn't about to get dragged into this conversation. Hadley was pursuing her own agenda, and two could play that game. "I need to call her. No one's heard from Jason since New Year's."

"I didn't know Sophie-Anne would come after you, Sookie." Hadley looked like she meant it, too.

I couldn't listen to her. Particularly on this subject.

"Did you meet Jason's girlfriend?" I reached for Hadley's thoughts, hoping that I could pick the name out of her head and be done with it. But she was thinking about Sophie-Anne, goddamnit.

"You're upset," Hadley said. "That's what they want. We've got to stick together. Us against them."

Great idea. Hadley and me versus the vampire establishment of Louisiana. Maybe we could recruit Beau to help us. The poor guy would never know what hit him. He seemed like a jerk, but he hardly deserved to be smacked with the mack truck that was vampire politics. If he hung around Hadley—or me, for that matter—how long would it be before he ended up dead?

"You shouldn't be talking to that guy." Not to mention the men at the rest stop.

"Just being neighborly," she said. "He needed help with his beers."

I bet he did.

I couldn't believe my cousin had been a vampire. Either she was clueless, or she just didn't give a shit. Maybe both. "You're putting him at risk."

Hadley looked at me like I was speaking in tongues. After a second, she started laughing. "You're kidding, right?"

I wasn't. Hadley got the message quick, because the smile dropped off her face. "God, he's done a number on you." She was thinking about Eric. "Longer they live, more paranoid they get. Believe me, I know." She took a swig of beer. Smiled. "Stick with me, little cousin. I'll take care of you."

Take care of me? Is that what she'd been doing, when she mentioned me to Sophie-Anne?

The accusation was on the tip of my tongue, but I kept it in, thank god. Mad as I was, I didn't want to fight. It wouldn't achieve anything.

I wanted one thing from this conversation.

"Jason's girlfriend."

Hadley stared at me.

He was her cousin, for god's sake.

"Please." My voice wavered.

Hadley looked at me with distaste. She seemed frustrated. Or disappointed. I wasn't sure which. Honestly, I didn't care. "Crystal."

"Last name?"

"Don't remember."

I checked her thoughts. She was telling the truth.

I nodded, and started back across the parking lot.

"Sookie, come on," Hadley said. "Stay. Have a beer."

I didn't look back.

* * *

><p>Carla Rodriguez hadn't seen Jason, nor had his three other ex-girlfriends whom I harassed with the help of 411. Catfish Hennessey told me that Jason hadn't shown up to work in two days. Hoyt Fortenberry hadn't heard from him either, and he was almost as worried as I was.<p>

Hoyt did, however, know the last name of Jason's current girlfriend.

Crystal Norris.

I realized that I should have called Hoyt in the first place. I was so stressed between Jason and my other hundred problems, I hadn't been thinking straight.

"She's from Hotshot," Hoyt said, and the bottom dropped out of my stomach. The memories flooded back. I'd known Crystal was a shifter since I'd seen her at New Year's, and Jason had mentioned Hotshot when we talked the next day. So much had happened between now and then, the information had gone in one ear and out the other.

Although technically part of Renard Parish, Hotshot was a country unto itself. The unkind called Hotshot people hillbillies, and rumors swirled about inbreeding, but all I knew for sure was that the town was dirt poor and its residents didn't take kindly to outsiders.

"Thought I might head out there later today," Hoyt said. "See if Crystal's heard from him."

"Don't go alone." Maybe Hoyt could take another of Jason's buddies, or one of the guys from the road crew. I'd go myself, if I were in town.

Hoyt promised he wouldn't, but he sounded amused. I hoped he wasn't humoring me.

I'd thought Hotshot was bad, but when Hoyt mentioned that he'd dropped by Jason's house this morning, I straight up panicked. Since he was talking to me and, obviously, very much alive, I assumed that he hadn't seen the Queen.

"I knocked on the door, checked in the windows," Hoyt said. "Nothing. No one home."

Maybe the Queen and company had moved on? Was that too much to ask?

Yes.

I'd bet anything that they'd been lying low. After all, where else did they have to go?

At any rate, I couldn't be more thankful that Hoyt hadn't seen them. He wouldn't know the vampires from Adam, but I was willing to bet his ignorance wouldn't matter to Andre or Sophie-Anne. To them, Hoyt was a liability first and a person second.

"You think we should call the police?" Hoyt said. "This isn't like Jason."

It wasn't. But the first thing a police officer would do was go to Jason's house. Unlike Hoyt, the cop wouldn't walk away when no one answered the doorbell. I had no love lost for Bud Dearborne or Alcee Beck, but I didn't want either of them dead.

But Jesus, did I ever want the cops called in. Hoyt and I could poke around all we liked, but we weren't professionals. My mind flashed to the blood Eric and I had discovered on Jason's dock. I hadn't had time to think about it until now. Something had happened to my brother. I just knew it. But I couldn't call the police so long as Sophie-Anne was hiding on his property.

The Queen had to move.

It didn't take a genius to put the pieces together.

* * *

><p>"You want Sophie-Anne in your house?" Eric looked like he couldn't believe what he was hearing.<p>

'Want' had nothing to do with it. I didn't have any other options. She could hardly check into the Holiday Inn, now could she? And with someone targeting Louisiana vampires, it wasn't safe for her to stay at properties owned by Eric, Pam, or Bill. My house was it.

"Will you call her?" Eric owed me that much. I didn't want to talk to her, if I could help it.

He hesitated. "If I were you, I'd cultivate distance between myself and the Queen."

Distance was a luxury I couldn't afford. Jason had been missing for two days. "I have to call the police."

Eric looked angry. "Your police are worthless," he said, as if it were self-evident. The sky is blue, the grass is green, and police are worthless.

I wasn't the cops' biggest fan either, but, "Eric, he's my brother." I didn't expect Eric to give a shit about him, but he was smart enough to understand that Jason was important to me. "You remember the blood we found? On his dock?"

Eric nodded.

"How do you explain that?" Eric couldn't, nor could I, and that was the point. I'd watched enough CSI to know the police had ways for dealing with those kinds of clues. "I hope he's with his girlfriend in Hotshot, but for two days? He's missing work." Say what you want about Jason, but he took his job seriously. He wasn't boss of a parish road crew for nothing. "His friend Hoyt's checking Hotshot tonight, but if Jason's not there, I'm calling the cops. I'll talk to Sophie-Anne myself, if I have to." I'd get the number from Hadley, god help me.

Eric was quiet. He was thinking that I had no understanding of what I was asking him to do.

"Sophie-Anne is a fair leader," he said, finally. "But if she gets hold of you, she won't let go."

She wouldn't let go? Now, that sounded familiar.

I glared at him.

Eric and I were on opposite sides of the room. I was in a chair; he was on the Queen-sized bed. I was sitting; he was lounging, sprawled out as if he owned the place. He looked relaxed. Unconcerned. If I hadn't been tuned to his thoughts, I wouldn't have known otherwise.

Eric was worried that I'd follow through with my threat and call Sophie-Anne. He was convinced I'd live to regret it.

Just as I'd lived to regret inviting him into my home?

Eric was blind if he didn't see the irony in his warning me to stay away from the Queen. I'd learned how controlling vampires could be, in large part thanks to him. I'd given him shelter when he needed it most, and I was living with the consequences.

If I extended the same invitation to Sophie-Anne, would she seize the opportunity, as Eric had?

Yes. Of course.

As I watched Eric pretend to relax, I realized I wouldn't be trading one vampire for another. I had a hard time imagining having this talk, for instance, with Sophie-Anne. Eric was being honest with me, more or less. He was even worried, if his thoughts were to be believed.

In person, the Queen had been nothing but kind to me, but I knew enough about catching flies with honey to mistrust her intentions. Bill was another warning. Hadley's behavior gave me the sense that Sophie-Anne kept her people on a tighter leash than Eric.

As difficult as Eric was, I wasn't sure that he was even comparable to the Queen.

Maybe that was Eric's point. And maybe, in that case, I appreciated his warning after all.

But what could I do? As much as I wanted to stay away from Sophie-Anne, wants were one thing and musts were something else entirely. Finding Jason was a must. It superseded everything.

"Eric, he's my brother." I'd said it before, and I'd say it again. It boiled down to that one, simple fact. Jason was my brother.

If I didn't help him, who would?

Eric stared at me. He had a strange look on his face, like he didn't know what to make of me.

"He's human?" he said, finally. "The friend."

Hoyt? Talk about non sequitur. "Yes. Why?"

"Hotshot is a shifter community." Eric sounded resigned. "I've dealt with their leader. Something Norris."

He pulled out his cell phone and started thumbing through contacts.

"Calvin," he said, after a pause. "He's not unreasonable."

Crystal's last name was Norris. She had to be a relation.

This was without a doubt the most information Eric had volunteered in the past week.

"If the shifters know anything, they won't tell your brother's friend," Eric said. "And I can't call Calvin. Not like this." He paused to think. He didn't want to involve Flood. Even if Alcide Herveaux would walk through fire for me. "Can your man Merlotte handle himself?"

I hated to involve Sam. But could he 'handle' himself?

Without a doubt.

I nodded.

"Then send him. Like to like."

I didn't want to put Sam at risk, but a trip to Hotshot might be okay. Sam had been trying to make inroads with local shifters; maybe he knew this Calvin Norris. I could ask him to tag along with Hoyt. Try to grease the wheels. At the very least, it would be good to get his opinion. See what he knew about Calvin or Crystal.

I couldn't believe that Eric had been so forthcoming.

I couldn't believe he'd been forthcoming, period.

"Thanks." I didn't know what else to say.

Eric brushed it off. "An invitation to your home would not send the message you intend."

Or a message Eric wanted. His advice was hardly selfless. The more contact I had with the Queen, the less control he had over me. Eric's opinion was coming across loud and clear—stay away from her—but was he trying to protect me? Or his own interests?

I looked at him, and found him staring back.

Maybe, in this case, our interests weren't mutually exclusive.

As soon I started thinking about interests—Eric's, the Queen's, and my own—an idea popped into my head. I was appalled I hadn't thought of before. Especially given last night.

I confronted Eric before caution could get the better of me. He needed me; I was willing to risk his anger. "Did you kidnap Jason?" I was tuned to his thoughts, but I was almost certain he'd be candid. If he'd done it, it would have been to ensure my cooperation. He'd have no reason to hide it from me.

"No." Eric's face showed no emotion, but his thoughts told a different story. I'd feared he might be offended, even angry, but I was surprised to find him pleased. Pleased that I'd considered the possibility.

I didn't understand him at all.

He was thinking about the Queen.

So was I. "Did Sophie-Anne kidnap him?"

"Ask your cousin."

"I'm asking you."

I had the answer before he said it aloud. "She's shared no such plans with me."

He was telling the truth.

Eric had considered it. The night we found the Queen at Jason's. He hadn't been sure then; now, he thought it unlikely. Sophie-Anne seemed to be taking a soft touch with me. Why else was Hadley along?

"Ask your cousin." Eric paused. Looked at me. "If I could read minds, I'd start with hers."

* * *

><p>Hadley wasn't by the pool. She wasn't in the parking lot. The desk clerk refused to give out Beau's room number, but I picked it out of his head. Seven. I knocked a few times, but no one answered.<p>

"He left."

I wheeled around.

A man with Santa Claus hair stood at the next door, an empty ice bucket in his hand.

"Round ten minutes ago."

"Was he alone?" I didn't care where Beau went, so long as Hadley wasn't with him.

"Dunno." Santa smiled. A gold cap winked on one of his teeth. "What's a girl like you doing looking for Beau?" His smile widened. It made him look less like Santa and more like the big bad wolf. "I can guess."

I didn't know what he meant, but I didn't like the sound of it. "Thanks for your help."

"Haven't helped you yet." Santa wasn't thinking about helping, or at least not helping in the way I meant it. He was thinking about V. How he'd sell it to me twice what he paid in Bentonville.

My heart was beating double its normal speed, but I gave him a big smile. "Maybe later, okay?"

As I started the too-long walk back to room 13, I realized two things:

Before she was turned, Hadley had likely been a V addict.

And I had a good idea of where she was.


	19. Bender

Walking into Sam's roadhouse felt like stepping inside a coffin. The bar was windowless and wood paneled. Liquor bottles crowded every free surface. Between the alcohol and parquet, all it would take was a well-placed match to make the place catch fire.

I stopped. Caught myself.

Had I just been daydreaming about arson?

I was more than a little disturbed until I realized the thought had come from Eric.

He loomed behind me. Fuming.

"Why don't you wait outside?" I said.

It wasn't dark yet, but the sun was on its final descent. In less than an hour, Arkansas's vampires would be awake. While Sam's didn't seem like the local undead hot spot, the chances of Eric being recognized were higher here than at the motel, or even outside, in the rapidly darkening parking lot.

"No." Eric was thinking that Sam's wasn't the type of place a woman should come alone. And he was right. I'd pulled a sweatshirt over my dress, but I was still attracting my fair share of stares. Blonde hair will do that.

Sam's clientele was overwhelmingly male. The patrons would fit right in at Merlotte's. But while Merlotte's was a family bar, Sam's was the kind of place guys didn't bring their wives. Eric and I were attracting our share of sideways glances. We weren't just newcomers; we stood out. I was crashing the boy's club, and while Eric might be a guy, he was hardly one of the guys.

It was attention I could have done without.

I didn't see Hadley, and I was ready to suggest we cut our losses, until I noticed a doorway at the back of the bar. A second room. Fingers crossed, she'd be in there.

When I'd heard Beau was missing, I figured Hadley had tagged along. It didn't take a genius to figure out where they'd gone. Sam's roadhouse had caught Hadley's eye this morning. If my cousin was hunting for a party, neither hell nor high water would keep her away from the town bar. I could have gone after Hadley alone, but I'd felt compelled to tell Eric. I didn't want to think about how he'd react when he realized the two of us were missing.

When I said Hadley was gone and I thought she was at Sam's, Eric got very quiet. Then, he said, "I'm coming."

I'd been surprised, since it was almost nightfall. When I mentioned the time, he said, "I'm not known in Arkansas."

I was eavesdropping on his thoughts, so I knew he was fudging facts. Eric's had met a handful of vampires in Threadgill's court. Even so, his assurance was effectively—if not technically—true: Little Rock was miles away, and the chances of a city vampire visiting this backwater were slim.

"Your cousin is a stupid woman." Eric thought it made her dangerous. "Nor does she have your best interests at heart."

I didn't need his warning, but I appreciated it.

"What will the Queen do if we lose Hadley?" I had to prepare for the worst-case scenario.

"Hadley lost herself," he said, without a trace of emotion.

* * *

><p>I heard Hadley before I saw her and from the way her voice was pitched—high, intense—I knew she'd landed in some kind of trouble.<p>

I walked into the back room, Eric a step behind me, just in time to hear the bartender tell Hadley, "That's not you."

Beau and Hadley were at the bar. I knew in a glance that they were high on V. They were practically glowing. Hadley had a wild look in her eye that doesn't come natural, even to people like her.

Beau had slung his arm around Hadley's shoulders. He was thinking about how much he wanted to bed her, how lucky he'd been to find a hot woman in this neck of the woods. Hadley, for her part, couldn't have cared less. She wanted a drink.

Hence, the argument.

Her ID lay on the bar, in front of the bartender.

He'd carded her.

Hadley looked young, but no one would mistake her for under 21. I'd bet money that was doubly true at a bar like Sam's, which didn't seem like it would be in the habit of inconveniencing paying customers.

A quick pass through the bartender's thoughts told me that he'd read the V on Hadley and Beau and wanted an excuse not to serve them. When he carded Hadley, he'd found it.

"That's not you," the bartender repeated, pointing at Hadley's ID. The bartender wasn't a big man—Beau towered over him—but his voice was steady and he was thinking about the gun he'd tucked under the bar.

"It is." Hadley sounded desperate. She really wanted that drink. When she turned to Beau for support, she caught sight of me. Hope flickered across her face. "Sookie," she said, as if I were an old friend. "Tell him who I am."

A drink was the last thing Hadley needed. She looked unsteady on her feet and her thoughts were muddled. I wondered how many years it had been since she'd done V, and how much she'd taken today. Vampire blood was unpredictable under normal circumstances. There was no telling what it would do to an ex-vampire.

The bartender looked about happy to see me as I was to see Hadley, which is to say, not at all. He was worried I'd side with her. Two V addicts was trouble enough. Three was a brawl waiting to happen. When he caught sight of Eric and realized we were together, his fingers started itching for his shotgun.

I sympathized. If our situation were reversed—if this was Merlotte's—I'd want us off the premises tout de suite. In fact, I wanted that right now. It was just a question of how to make it happen.

Hadley and Beau looked raring for a fight. The air around them crackled.

For once, Eric was waiting on me. He watched Hadley with narrowed eyes. I appreciated the rare restraint. Eric was a big guy, so just about anything he did would escalate the situation. If there was any chance of us leaving without violence, I had to take the lead.

I took a deep breath. "Hadley, we've got to go."

"Okay," she said. I dared to hope, until she added, "After a drink."

The bartender glared. To give myself time to think, I took a closer look at Hadley's license. It was an old photo. She was almost unrecognizable. In the picture, Hadley's hair was dyed black, choppy and goth. Today, her hair was back to its natural brown, fixed in a Hollywood-style bun impaled by two chopsticks. I was sure the chopsticks were meant as a fashion statement, but to my eyes, they looked kind of like wooden antennae. At any rate, the Hadley standing at the bar looked like a different woman than the Hadley on the license.

I remembered the goth Hadley from Bon Temps. She'd been a cheerleader through high school, but she'd taken a swing towards the dark and dramatic the year before she'd run off to New Orleans. She'd probably been 15 then, right around the time she gotten her learner's permit. I'd have bet money that the picture on Hadley's license had been taken at the Renard Parish office of motor vehicles, the day she'd passed her driver's test. The state of Louisiana let those of us too lazy to brave the lines at the OMV use the same photo until we turned 25. I'd just updated mine.

I wondered if Hadley had made it that far.

"I changed my hair," Hadley said, in the understatement of the year.

"It's not the hair." I heard the real reason in the bartender's head a moment before he said it aloud—far too late to stop him. At least he was smart enough to pitch his voice low. "You a vampire, honey?"

He pointed at Hadley's license. At a V under her name.

V for vampire.

The bartender meant it as a rhetorical question. Of course he didn't think Hadley was a vampire. It was daylight, after all. But he did think she was drainer who'd killed a vampire, stolen her wallet, and was high enough to mix up IDs.

Hadley made a sloppy grab for the license, and stumbled against the bar. Sober enough to realize she was in trouble, she was too wasted to handle the trouble she'd caused.

My mind was working double-time. Hadley's turning had been on the books. The Queen was a public figure. She'd done everything above board. Hadley had gone through the proper channels and gotten the paperwork to prove her new identity.

I couldn't believe she'd been stupid enough to use it now.

Speaking of: I couldn't believe Louisiana didn't require registered vampires to come in for a photograph. If they were going to look the same for eternity, you might as well get a clear picture. Maybe the state did have a such a requirement. Maybe one of the Queen's vamps had pulled strings to get Hadley out of it, or used the usual tactics—threats and glamour. I could understand why vampires wouldn't want the state to have an accurate picture. Or any picture at all.

I caught myself. I could worry about the details of vampires IDs later. I needed to turn my attention to more important things. Like getting us out of this situation. Like not getting killed.

A hush had fallen over those within earshot. The men next me stopped talking. The nearest had his back to us, but I could tell he was listening with all his might.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw movement. Eric.

"Come on." He put his arm around Hadley's shoulders and pointed her towards the exit. His voice was even, movements gentle. He was showing remarkable restraint.

Hadley twisted free. "Fuck off."

Wound tight, the bartender lost his temper. "I don't know who the hell you are, but you sure ain't Hadley Delahoussaye." He was thinking that he needed a new job. He was too old for this shit. He had a wife at home. Kids.

Hadley should have grabbed the license and let it go, but for some godforsaken reason she took offense. "I am Hadley," she said, sounding just as mad as the bartender.

The bartender was angry enough to spell it out for her. "Honey, we don't serve drainers." He regretted saying it aloud, but not nearly as much I regretted hearing it. That word turned heads. A man across the bar looked up, sharp. The guy next to me—the one pretending not to eavesdrop—tensed.

If we hadn't been the center of attention before, we were now.

Eric didn't react, god bless him. He put his arm around Hadley shoulders, as if nothing had happened. But as he turned her towards the exit, Beau grabbed his shoulder. "Hands off my girl." Eric shrugged him off. He didn't even look at him. His apathy incensed Beau. He grabbed the back of Eric's shirt and yanked. "Hey."

Eric moved so fast, I didn't realize what was happening. I blinked, and Beau was on the floor. When Eric shook his fist, I realized he'd punched Beau.

Hard.

I heard a click.

The bartender had found his shotgun. He was aiming at Eric.

Eric barely reacted. He eyed the bartender with minimal interest, as if he was bored staring into the barrel of a 12-gauge that could end his life—or undeath—in seconds. Eric had spent 1000 years unafraid of guns, but I wasn't sure it was doing him any favors. A week ago, he'd been bulletproof, but today, he was just like the rest of us.

As if to prove my point, Beau lunged out of nowhere to grab Eric's legs. Eric took a table with him as he crashed to the ground.

The bartender fired. Patrons ducked. Thank god the shot went wide, ricocheting off a tin Bud sign to shatter a bottle of whiskey behind the bar.

For one horrible second, the bar was quiet. The only sound was Beau's grunting as he tried to land a punch on Eric. I was pleased to see Eric was taking the Gandhi approach to fighting, trying to keep Beau at arm's length as he struggled to his feet.

The bartender leveled his gun at them.

"No," escaped my mouth, too loud. I forced myself to look at the bartender. I hated to ignore the fight, but I wouldn't be of help gawking. "Don't shoot."

As I met the bartender's eyes, I slid into his thoughts.

The bartender was sure he'd lose his job if the cops showed up. Something about Sam—not my Sam—the Sam who owned this bar. His no-good son ran something out of the back. Or maybe it was Sam himself. There was a racket. Drugs. Or gambling. The details were fuzzy and honestly, I didn't want to know. I just felt lucky the police were persona non grata.

"You shoot, it will cause a fuss." By fuss, I meant fuzz, as in the fuzz. The bartender caught my drift. "I'll get them out of here." How, I wasn't sure, but that was the next hurdle. First, I had to keep Eric from getting shot. I stared at the bartender, trying to make him believe I was sober and good as my word. "We won't trouble you."

Any more than we already had.

Pumped on V, Beau was proving more of a challenge to Eric than I'd ever imagined he could be. Eric was still struggling to his feet. He'd just lost his temper, and punched Beau again.

That was the last straw.

A few of the patrons—big, tough guys—grabbed Eric and Beau. Eric was smart enough to stop struggling. Beau wasn't. It took three guys to get him under control and out the front door. The man who had his arm around Eric followed.

The bartender lowered his gun. "You'd better go."

It was the understatement of the day.

Hadley realized she'd overstepped—too late—and started after the men.

She forgot her ID on the bar.

As I picked it up, I met the bartender's gaze.

He thought my cousin was a dead woman.

He thought it wasn't looking good for me either.

That wasn't exactly a pick-me-up, if you know what I mean. I pulled out of his head and started towards the exit. I reached it just as the big guys that had tossed out Beau and Eric came inside. They stopped and stared at me.

The message was clear.

Don't come back.

I hadn't been planning on it.

As I stepped outside, my eyes had to adjust to the dark. Evening had fallen. The sun was a sliver on the horizon. I was guessing we had 20 minutes tops before the vampires rose.

I was less than thrilled to see that Eric and Beau had resumed their fight. I was sure Beau had initiated round two, but at least Eric seemed to be winning it. I watched Eric land a punch. Beau's neck snapped back. He staggered, then shook his head as if he were a dog drying himself. He looked at Eric and smiled.

Beau looked crazy. Crazy high. When I'd had Eric's blood in Jackson, I'd wanted to climb walls. I could imagine that a fistfight would be an irresistible thrill.

As Beau punched Eric, the streetlights flickered on.

Shit.

Hadley was slumped on the steps. She was half watching the fight, half resting her head. Her thoughts were a whorl. I'd never been dangerously drunk, but I'd tasted it in other's heads, and I felt something similar in Hadley now. Her thoughts were disconnected fragments, with a skewed awareness of color and motion. It wasn't unlike what I got from dreamers.

I had no idea what to do. Hadley needed help. But, so did Eric. Beau seemed to be gaining the upper hand. Every time Eric hit him, it was like Beau didn't feel it. But when Beau punched Eric, you could see the blows land.

I could tell that Eric was tiring. He was running on reduced juice. Even so, he was bigger than Beau, and stronger than your average man. In life, he'd been a warrior. He'd had 1000 years to hone his fighting technique.

Beau might be built like an athlete, but he didn't take care of himself. He couldn't have been more than 30, but he already had a paunch. Too many tallboys. Too much V.

And that was the problem. Beau had vampire blood running through his veins. For once, Eric did not. The V gave Beau an edge.

I hoped it wasn't decisive.

I felt like an idiot watching Eric get bloody and doing nothing to help, but I could hardly attack Beau with my bare hands. I scoured the stoop for any makeshift weapon. If I were a vampire, or high on V, maybe I could have broken off a piece of banister to clock Beau. But since I lacked super strength, I had to scrounge. Other than Hadley, the only thing on the stoop was a flowerpot. The geranium inside had long since died.

Beggars can't be choosers.

I picked up the pot just as Beau shoved Eric against a pickup. Eric hit his back at a strange angle and groaned.

There are groans, and then there are groans, and the one Eric made didn't sound good. He started scrabbling at his back. Maybe he was caught on the truck.

Beau seized his opportunity, and I seized mine. As Beau kicked Eric, I chucked the flowerpot.

I played varsity softball for four years. My talents may be few, but I can throw straight and hard. The pot hit Beau in the square of the back, knocking the wind out of him.

He spun to face me, just as Eric found whatever he was grabbing for against his back.

"Bitch," Beau said, and started towards me.

Before I could reply, or even panic, Eric struggled to his feet. I caught sight of a flash of silver, and realized he was holding a gun.

Pam's gun.

God help me, but seeing it felt like meeting an old friend. What did that say about the company I kept?

And if Eric was packing, why the hell hadn't he pulled it sooner?

"Hey," Eric called, and Beau turned around. Saw the gun. V or no V, he knew what it meant.

"Go." Eric's voice was hoarse, but he held the gun steady. He was bleeding from a cut on his lip.

Beau hesitated. He was thinking about storming Eric. Grabbing the gun.

"Don't be stupid." I said, and as Beau rounded on me, I had a brainwave. "The police are on their way. They found the V at the motel."

I wasn't certain that Beau had V in his room, but the bet paid off. Fear coursed though him. Thankfully, he was too addled to wonder how I knew something I couldn't possibly know.

"Fuck all y'all," he said, and spat on the ground. He looked around for Hadley, saw her lolling on the step, and decided to cut his losses.

As Beau took off into the row of trucks, I let out a breath I hadn't known I'd been holding. But it wasn't until I heard an engine start—until I realized he was really leaving—that I started towards Eric. He seemed alert, but he was leaning against the nearest truck like he needed the support.

"You okay?" He had a cut on his lip. He'd need to wash it.

"Sookie," Eric yanked me to him, just as I noticed headlights reflecting off the nearest truck.

Beau was in his pickup, and he was heading towards us.

Eric might have a gun, but Beau had a four-wheeler, and in a battle of machines, the truck won just about every time.

I dove into a nook between parked trucks, just as Eric pulled me in the same direction. I caught a mouthful of dust, kicked up by Beau's tires. It was a small price to pay. We were out of his reach, squeezed in the crevasse between vehicles. Eric raised the gun, maybe for a warning shot, but I grabbed his arm.

"Don't." It would only antagonize Beau. Plus, if it came to a real fight, we couldn't afford to waste bullets.

Beau leaned on the horn and just about blew out my eardrum. Masculinity established, he blazed out of the lot.

Silence had never felt so good.

As a rule, I try not to curse, but right then, I might have let one slip.

"Yes," Eric said, and loosened his grip on my wrist. I'd been so panicked, I hadn't even realized he'd grabbed it. His fingers left white marks in my skin.

He looked pissed. Surprisingly, it wasn't about the fight. He was thinking that he should have forced Beau to give us his truck.

If we wanted to avoid vampires, driving a drainer's vehicle was just about the worst thing we could do. Now, I wasn't sure Beau was a drainer, but he was at least a small-time dealer and that was enough to make me uncomfortable. Plus, what would we do if Beau reported his pickup stolen? Regardless, I didn't say anything to Eric. Beau was gone, so the issue was irrelevant, and another 'Yep, I read your mind fight,' was the last thing we needed.

Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, I felt way too close to Eric. The space between parked trucks didn't leave much breathing room. I slid past him, into the lot. I was uncomfortable, and I was sure he could read it all over me. "How do we know he won't come after us?" I said, to cover. I hoped my story about the raid was enough to make Beau skip town, but we were marooned at the motel. If he returned, the situation would get ugly fast.

"We don't." Eric looked grim as he tucked Pam's gun into the back of his jeans.

The cut on his mouth was still bleeding. Sometime during the fight, blood had smeared on his shirt. Even in the low light, I could tell there'd be a stain. I wasn't sure that Eric had an extra t-shirt. In fact, I was pretty sure he didn't. He'd had been wearing the same clothes since he'd shown up at my house on New Year's. I'd done his laundry a few times, and never once been thanked.

_Concentrate, Sookie_, I told myself. As far as things to worry about, Eric's apparel was minor minor minor_._

"That looks like it hurts," I said to Eric, when he caught me staring.

"Yes," he said.

Silence.

I felt obligated to say something. _ Sorry you got punched _kept running through my head, but wasn't sure how Eric would take it.

"Let's get home," I said, stopping myself from saying _let's get you home_ just in time. I wondered where the protective impulse had come from. Eric looked as if he'd just taken a real beating. Forget looked. He had. His face was swollen. His lip wouldn't stop bleeding.

Eric wiped his mouth. Glanced at his hand. I followed his gaze. His palm was smeared with blood. He was staring, like he'd never seen anything so interesting.

That set off warning bells.

If I told him not to lick his fingers, would it be unforgivably rude?

Oh hell. Eric and I had passed rude days ago.

As I opened my mouth to speak, he glanced at me. Then, really looked. Realized I'd been staring. Turned back to his hand. I could see him put the pieces together.

He glared at me and wiped his hand on his shirt.

Creating another stain.

Great.

Eric needed Neosporin, if not stiches. Someone had to dress his cut. Unless Pam had undisclosed skills healing humans, I had a feeling that someone would be me.

Eric started towards Hadley.

She was still on the stoop. She leaned against the railing, eyes glassy. I wasn't sure if she knew what was going on. She hadn't reacted to the fight, or Beau's departure. I wasn't sure that she knew Beau had left.

"I won't keep this secret," Eric said.

I didn't need to read his mind to know what he meant. He planned to tell Sophie-Anne about Hadley's indiscretion.

I didn't say anything. I didn't even know where to begin. Vampires reserved a special kind of savagery for drainers and the addicts who fueled their business. Would Hadley face the same treatment? She was a vampire—sort of—and a favorite of the Queen. Was that enough to give her a free pass?

Did Hadley even deserve a pass? She hadn't just been self-destructive, she'd put us all at risk. I didn't want her to die, but if there wasn't some sort of intervention, some sort of consequence, she'd continue to be a danger to herself and all those around her.

That being said, I didn't know if Eric should tell the Queen. I didn't know what I thought. I had to sort out my feelings. Now was not the time.

First, we had to get Hadley home.

Eric approached her, but she didn't react. She was slumped over, eyes closed. I was half-afraid he'd be rough, but he slid an arm around her shoulders and drew her to her feet. Steadied her, as she wobbled.

Hadley looked at Eric, as if was seeing him for the first time. I knew the moment she recognized him, because she pushed him aside, with surprising strength. The V. "I'm fine." Her words slurred.

She started moving and he let her go. Hadley staggered in the direction of the road, then got distracted by light from a street lamp.

"She can't walk," Eric said.

I'd been thinking the same thing. Hadley might feel superhuman, but she was moving like a zombie. It was ten minutes to our motel. The walk was along the highway. If Hadley wandered into traffic, it would cause more attention than we could afford. Plus, I refused to let my cousin die like roadkill. Hadley might be dumb as a post, but she was still my flesh and blood.

But what could we do? Eric and I didn't have a car. We hadn't stolen Beau's truck. I wasn't strong enough to carry her. I looked at Eric. He knew what had to happen same as I.

"How's your back?" Beau had hit him hard.

He gave me a look. Surprise. "Good enough." He reached to his back and, for the second time that night, took out Pam's gun. "Don't want her picking my pocket." He passed the gun to me, handle first. "It's loaded," he said, then started towards Hadley.

It took me a second to realize why my heart rate had picked up.

Eric had given me a loaded gun.

Then turned his back.

This was the man who always picked a seat with a view of the exit.

I was so focused on Eric, it took me a few seconds to notice that Hadley had bent double.

She was throwing up all over her shoes.

* * *

><p>I cleaned Hadley the best I could. All I had were the clothes on our backs and a couple of old Kleenex in my sweatshirt pocket. She'd passed the feeling good part of wasted and was now just sick.<p>

In a way, it was a blessing for us. When Eric picked her up, she didn't fight.

Eric and I discussed our options on the way to the motel. Under ideal circumstances we'd leave town. Eric suggested stealing a car. I vetoed. Despite the obvious downsides, if we were arrested and the vampires identified, the curse would become public record.

As soon as I pointed that out, Eric realized I was right. "Better Threadgill finds out than the world," he said, with a kind of grim humor. I agreed. I could only imagine the potential disaster if the Fellowship of the Sun, for instance, realized that vampires could become human.

As far as Threadgill, or local vampires, finding out—it all depended on who'd seen the incident at the bar and where their loyalties lay. It was a blessing that the fight had happened before sunset. Any vampire would hear news secondhand.

If anyone wanted to find us, vampire or otherwise, neither Eric nor I thought it would be difficult. We were obviously outsiders. With one motel in town, any pursuer wouldn't have to work hard to find us.

Without a car, our options were holing up in the motel or staying the night in a public place. As risky as the motel was, the chances of the vampires being spotted and identified in public were even higher.

"First thing tomorrow, we'll leave," Eric said.

If our car was repaired. The mechanic has said 24 to 48 hours. Tomorrow was by no means a sure thing, but I didn't bother bringing it up. We had enough problems as it was.

When we reached the motel, I stopped at reception to ask for an extra room, in case anyone had eyeballed us coming out of 12 and oh-so-lucky 13. But with nightfall, the motel had been filled up by truckers, so we were out of luck.

Beau's pickup wasn't anywhere to be seen. I hoped my lie about the raid had been enough to make him leave town.

As I took Hadley inside room 13, Eric stopped by Pam's to bring her up to speed.

Hadley was lethargic, almost catatonic. Under normal circumstances, I'd have thought about calling a doctor, but we couldn't afford the exposure. I'd have to do the best I could.

I folded Hadley into bed and filled a glass of water. I put it on the side table. I brought the trashcan, in case she was sick again. I brushed her hair out of her face. Took those dumb chopsticks out of her bun and put them on the dresser. I was about to ease Hadley out of her top, when I looked up to see Eric in the doorjamb, watching me.

He had a strange look on his face.

"What?" I said.

"Nothing."

It wasn't, but he didn't elaborate.

"I'm staying here," I said. Hadley needed someone to watch her. I was willing to bet the last time Eric had taken care of anyone coming off of V was never. Not that I had a whole lot of experience, but I trusted my nursing skills more than his. "You can sleep with Pam."

Eric just looked at me. It was almost as if he were hesitating. Then, he stepped inside the room. He put Pam's pistol on the dresser, next to the chopsticks. "I'd rather stay," he said. "In case—"

He didn't need to say it.

In case Hadley's indiscretion brought visitors.

I nodded. If anyone showed up, I felt better with Eric and a gun in the room.

Eric looked at me again. I couldn't read his expression. He seemed like he was about to say something—and I actually wondered what it was—but then his eyes flickered from my face to my hand, still resting on Hadley's back. I'd been about to unzip her top.

"I'll give you privacy," he said.

He walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

* * *

><p>When I woke up, Hadley was moving.<p>

She looked at me like she had no idea who I was, then her eyes focused. Recognition dawned.

"Where am I?" Her voice was hoarse.

"Drink," I passed her water, but she pushed it aside. Her movements were sloppy. She seemed drunk, but at least she wasn't dying.

Hadley wondered why her body hurt so much. Realized she was human. Remembered the curse. I caught a wave of despair. "This is a dream."

"No."

I tried to give her water again, but she just looked at me. For the first time, it was as if she really saw me. "Sookie."

I didn't trust myself to speak.

"I'm sorry." Hadley was thinking about a baby. I didn't recognize it, but they mostly look the same to me. It had dark eyes. So did the Queen, I discovered as Hadley's thoughts slid to a new subject. "I love her," she said, and meant it, although her thoughts were colored by frustration.

I didn't know what to say. I was glad Hadley had found love. Was I glad she'd found it with the Queen?

You tell me.

"I made a mistake." Whether Hadley was talking about the Queen, tonight, being a vampire, what she did to me, or to our family at large, I didn't know. I wasn't sure Hadley knew herself. Her thoughts were saturated with self-pity. "I just want—"

She trailed off. She looked miserable. Sick and miserable. Her hair clung to her forehead in sweaty streaks.

Lord help me, but I felt sorry for her. Hadley was locked in a losing battle with herself. The world was tough enough, and she was one of those people who made it even harder.

If Hadley had been human, maybe rehab could have helped her. Maybe she could train herself out of her addictions. But in being turned, Hadley had taken herself out of the human world. Now, she was facing different rules. I didn't know what would happen to her.

I feared it was nothing good.

Angry as I was at Hadley, I could see no reason to be cruel. The world would do all that and more.

She hiccupped. I took the opportunity to press the glass of water to her lips. She had no choice but to gulp it down.

"Rest." It was the only thing that would help her.

"I'm not tired," she said, but after a minute or two, her eyes flickered shut.

As I turned away from Hadley, I caught sight of Eric, in a chair. He was leaning back, as if he'd been dozing, but his eyes were open. Watching me.

He was thinking about when I invited him into my home, New Year's Eve.

I couldn't imagine why.

* * *

><p>After that, I tossed and turned. Dozed, if I was lucky, but honestly, it hardly felt like sleeping. I was jerked awake by Hadley's movements, the creaking of the motel. Every sound seemed like someone coming after us.<p>

Eric was just as restless. Each time I opened my eyes, he seemed to be awake already. He was watching the front window. His hand rested inches from Pam's gun, which lay on the dresser beside him.

About 3 am, our fears arrived.

Crunch of tires. Whirring engine. Lights shone through the motel window.

Eric looked at me. Got to his feet.

I rolled out of bed. Stood up.

The engine died. The lights went off and with it, the room plunged into darkness. Eric thumbed something into his phone. A text. It lit up as he sent.

Pam, in the next room. Our backup.

All I could see was the whiteness of the lampshade, the glow of Eric's eyes, and the sheen of Pam's gun as he took it off the table beside him.

Eric looked at me and thought, _Quiet_.

I didn't need to be told twice.

Footfalls outside. Boots on concrete. The sound stopped. I held my breath.

A knock on our door.

"Hadley Delahoussaye?" A man's voice.

I cast for his mind, and found a void.

A vampire.


	20. The Wringer

"Hadley Delahoussaye?" the vampire asked.

For maybe the first time ever, I wished Eric could hear my thoughts. I didn't know how to mime vampire, short of making fangs with my fingers. My heart was beating so fast, I couldn't think straight.

The vampire knocked again.

Eric knew something was wrong, if not exactly what. He stared at me, as if trying to will knowledge from my head into his. I met his gaze, pointed at the door, and mouthed _vampire_.

Why hadn't I just thought of that in the first place?

Eric's eyes widened. He cast his gaze towards the dresser. I looked too, but for the life of me, I couldn't figure out what he wanted me to see.

"Hadley?" the vampire repeated. I knew he could hear us. I assumed motels didn't count as private residences, so we couldn't stop him from entering the room. He could break down our door any time he wanted.

By knocking, he was just being polite.

I wanted to keep us polite as long as possible.

"One second," I said. I motioned Eric back to the shadows, not that it would provide much cover from a vampire. Eric could have hidden in the bathroom, but it would take too long to communicate and I was willing to bet that vampire had already heard that there were two of us. Hiding Eric would make it look like we had something to conceal.

Which we did.

I cracked the door.

I had no plan, but I couldn't put it off any longer.

The vampire was slight man, wearing a cowboy hat. Whether he'd actually been a cowboy, or if it was an affectation, I didn't know.

Honestly, I didn't care.

He looked me in the eyes, and hit me with his glamour. I could feel it pressing on the sides of my mind—an almost pleasant buzz.

"Open the door," he said.

After a moment of indecision, I did. If I'd refused, the vampire would have opened it for me. Then he would be pissed, and know I couldn't be glamoured, both of which would put me at a disadvantage. The last thing I needed was a report reaching Peter Threadgill that a telepath was running around with the Queen of Louisiana's girlfriend.

"Hadley?"

So the vampire didn't know what she looked like. "No," I said.

"What's your name?"

"Fiona Jones." Fiona was the heroine of the romance novel I was reading. I had a hunch the vamp wouldn't get the reference.

He didn't. "Where's Hadley?"

"Hadley who?"

His eyes narrowed, but he seemed to have no idea I was being anything other than forthright. "The vampire you drained."

Having never been interrogated under glamour, I wasn't exactly sure how it worked. Could I only respond to direct questions? Or could I volunteer information? I decided to push my luck. Eric, Hadley, and I needed all the help we could get. "We didn't drain anyone."

As soon as I said 'we,' I realized my mistake. The vampire looked over my shoulder to suss out the room. Find my companions. And as soon as he did, he saw Eric.

There was no immediate 'aha,' no instantaneous recognition. Eric hadn't been exaggerating when he said he wasn't known in Arkansas.

Thank god.

When the vampire turned his back to me, Eric met my gaze. Again, he cast his eyes towards the dresser.

What the hell did he want me to see?

"Stay," the vampire told me, and I did my best to look obedient and stationary as he started towards Eric.

As soon as the vampire turned his back, I looked at the dresser. It was crowded with random crap. Hadley's makeup. A discarded dress. The chopsticks I'd taken out of her hair.

The _wooden_ chopsticks I'd taken out of her hair.

I looked back to Eric, just in time to see the vampire glamour him. Eric was alert one minute, and the next, his face went slack. It was like someone flipped a switch.

This was the moment Eric had been dreading. And now, I was dreading it too. I might have been able to lie to the vampire, but Eric didn't have that luxury.

"What's your name?" the vampire asked.

"Eric," said Eric.

The vampire didn't look amused. "Full name."

"I am called Northman."

Eric's face might not have gotten a reaction, but his name certainly did. The vampire was silent a beat too long. I could see a hundred questions flash across his face. He settled on a relatively cautious, "Where are you from?"

"Area 5 in the Kingdom of Louisiana," Eric said, unintentionally throwing himself—and his Queen—under the bus.

I couldn't imagine what the vampire was thinking. As far as I knew, there was no precedent for this kind of curse. No vampire had ever turned human. Did the vampire believe Eric was truly Eric? Or did he assume Eric was a human someone had glamored into thinking he was the Sheriff of Area 5?

If the vampire was confused, he didn't show it. "Who sent you?"

"Sophie-Anne LeClerq."

That got the biggest reaction yet. The vampire's eyes went wide. "Sit," he said. Eric obeyed. The vampire pulled up a chair himself, and sat facing Eric. He was settling in for the long haul. "Why?"

"To prove Peter Threadgill cursed us," Eric said.

The vampire was hanging on Eric's every word. In fact, he was so focused on Eric, he didn't notice me until I was right behind him, and by then it was too late to stop me from pushing one of Hadley's chopsticks into his chest.

The vampire looked down at my hand—at the stake—and his eyes widened.

"I told you to stay," he said.

Then, he crumpled.

I'd just staked my second vampire. I didn't feel great about it, and I didn't want to make a habit of it, but now was not the time to reevaluate my lifestyle.

I knelt next to Eric. He still seemed out of it, so I shook him, gently at first, then harder. His eyes refocused. "Sookie," he said, and he sounded relieved.

"I staked him." My voice was surprisingly steady.

"Good," Eric said, but he looked far from it. The little color he had was gone.

"Are you okay?"

Eric nodded, but it was more like he was willing himself to be fine. He looked exhausted, and his face was bruising. The cut near his mouth still looked ugly. I wanted to clean him up—Band-Aids, Neosporin, the works—but wasn't sure where we'd find a first aid kit.

Eric glanced at the vampire, who was already starting to flake. "What did I tell him?"

I didn't want to say 'everything,' even though it was very nearly accurate, because I didn't want Eric to feel worse than he already did.

"He didn't recognize you." I watched Eric for a reaction, but his face was blank. He seemed to be bracing himself. "When he learned your name, he was surprised." I didn't say _when you told him your name_, even though Eric was smart enough to connect the dots. There was no reason to rub salt on his wound. "If Threadgill's behind this, the vampire didn't know it." I hadn't realized that until I said it aloud, but upon saying it, I was pretty sure it was true. The vampire hadn't been expecting a human Eric, and he'd been taken aback when Eric mentioned Sophie-Anne.

Eric's expression was neutral. If I hadn't read his mind, I wouldn't have been able to tell how angry he was. Angry at himself, mostly, even though the incident had been no fault of his own. He was frightened too, and grateful I'd acted when I did. His heart was beating fast. He had trouble concentrating on anything except how fast it was going, and how much he wanted it to slow down. He felt disoriented. He tried to remember what had happened, but his mind was blank between seeing the vampire, and then, my face. Eric couldn't have helped being glamoured, but I had a feeling if I said that, it would only make him feel worse. That was his issue, right? Under glamour, he couldn't help himself. In an instant, he was powerless.

It was a feeling I knew too well, and I could understand why Eric hated it.

I thought Eric was being too tough on himself. In fact, he'd helped us out of the situation. If he hadn't pointed out Hadley's chopsticks, I doubted that I could have acted in time.

Before I could say anything, Eric knelt next to the vampire and started going through his pockets. Activity was the best medicine, as Gran always used to say. After a few seconds he came out with a set of car keys and a cash clip. "No wallet," he said. "No identification."

He said that as if it were significant. "Meaning?"

Eric shrugged. "My people register."

I assumed Threadgill's vampires did the same. Most mainstreamers tried to stick to the letter of the law. If this vampire was outside the hierarchy, was it good for us? Would he be missed?

Eric's expression gave me no indication. "We'll have to get rid of the car," he said.

"Dump it?"

"Maybe." Eric cast his eyes towards Hadley. She hadn't moved once. Her chest was rising and falling, thank goodness, but otherwise, she was dead to the world. I can't say that I envied her, but it would have been nice to have slept through the last half hour.

"Too bad he doesn't have an ID," I said, thinking aloud. "We could have left the car at his registered address. " Anyone checking up on him might assume he'd gone home and met a demise that had nothing to do with us.

My suggestion made Eric smile. "Unless it was a false address," he said, after a moment. "Or, unless he lives with other vampires."

Hm. He had a point.

"Let's check the car, regardless." I wanted to know who this vampire was and, in an ideal world, who had sent him. If we didn't know our enemy, it wasn't likely that we'd see him coming.

Eric nodded and picked up Pam's gun. I took Hadley's chopstick from the rapidly flaking vampire. Just in case.

I glanced at Hadley. Still sleeping.

Eric looked at me. He was ready. I was as ready as I'd ever be.

I walked to the door, turned the knob, and stepped into the lot. But before I so much as saw the vampire's car, something crashed into my head, and everything went black.

* * *

><p>I woke up to find Pam leaning over me. We were both in bed and—I'm pleased to report—both fully clothed. If I didn't know any better, I'd have called Pam's expression sheepish.<p>

"Sorry," she said.

That set off my alarm bells. Apologies from Pam did not happen every day, or even every year. In fact, this might be the first time she'd said sorry to me. Ever.

My head throbbed. I felt like I'd been hit by a ton of bricks. Literally.

"What happened?" Last I remembered, Eric and I were checking the vampire's car.

"I hit you," Pam said, matter-of-fact. "I didn't know it was you," she added, probably in response to the shocked look on my face. "Otherwise I wouldn't have done it."

For the life of me, I couldn't think of what to say. I felt very tired.

"When Eric alerted me to the intruder, I waited outside your door. I thought I'd get him on the way out. You were the first to emerge. It was dark. My senses are not what they were." Pam actually seemed contrite.

My ears were still ringing. "Did you use an anvil, Pam?" It sure felt like it.

"A lamp," she said, and she was thinking it was fortunate that Eric had kept her gun.

I agreed.

"Eric told me you staked the vampire," she said, and I nodded. She smiled at me, and if I didn't know any better, I'd say she seemed proud. "Good."

I didn't feel particularly good about it. The vampire hadn't attacked me or Eric—just questioned us. Now, through no fault of his own, he was dead. I wasn't going to fool myself and call the vampire an innocent, but he wasn't guilty either. He'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

When I'd staked Lorena, the situation had felt a lot more clear cut. She would have killed me, and gladly. I'd acted in self-defense. This vampire would have likely attacked me too, if I'd given him a reason. Chances were he'd have no qualms. But it hadn't come to that. I'd gotten to him first.

I'd done what I'd had to do, but I didn't think it was something to be proud of.

I didn't feel like unburdening to Pam, so I changed the subject. "How long have I been out?"

"Not more than a half hour. Hadley's up. We're heading back to Louisiana."

My first feeling was relief. The second, annoyance. Had we come this far just to turn around? "What about Threadgill's hotel?" I forgot its name, but Pam understood what I meant.

"You're going," she said. "You and Eric. I'm taking Hadley home."

I could understand why Eric would want to get rid of Hadley, but we were marooned until our car got out of the shop. Or until Eric snapped and hotwired some poor bystander's vehicle. "How?"

Pam held up the vampire's car keys.

"Is that wise?" What if someone had sent out an alert? What if Pam got picked up by the police?

"It's almost dawn," she said. "I believe this was a last errand on his way home. Eric agrees. He will not be missed until tomorrow nightfall, and by then, we will be gone."

At best, that sounded like an educated guess, at worst, wishful thinking. Even if it were true, I didn't think the trip home was a great plan, or even a good one. If there were any way the car could be traced back to Bon Temps, the consequences could be extreme.

Pam must have noticed my frown, because she said, "Under the circumstances, it's the best we can do. We have to get rid of the car. Eric wants your cousin gone."

Gone meant out of his hair. Eric couldn't discipline the Queen's girlfriend. Not without putting himself in a difficult position. Better to make it the Queen's problem.

I could connect the dots. I was surprised it had taken me this long.

"You're going to tell Sophie-Anne what happened."

Pam just looked at me. There was no reason to confirm what we both knew to be true.

"What will happen to her?"

"She's done nothing for you, Sookie—" Pam started.

"That wasn't my question."

"She's a favorite," Pam said, after a pause. "She'll be all right."

* * *

><p>After that, Pam went to speak with Eric and Hadley. I took advantage of the rare privacy and slipped into the shower.<p>

I knew Pam's definition of all right differed from mine. I took it to mean that Hadley would survive, which was good, because as angry as I was at her, I couldn't have stood by if she faced execution.

I wanted Hadley gone, but I didn't want her dead, or even hurt. She brought enough punishment on herself. Would the Queen treat Hadley with mercy? Hopefully. But regardless, it wasn't going to be my idea of mercy. Just considering the possibilities made me shudder.

Should I try to stop Eric from telling the Queen? I didn't even know if I could. For all I knew, he'd already called her. After all, Eric had to supply a reason for sending Hadley back to Bon Temps against Sophie-Anne's orders. Hadley's behavior gave him the justification he needed.

But even if it were possible to convince Eric to keep his mouth shut—should I try?

Hadley couldn't keep on this path. She was a danger to herself and others. I knew my cousin well enough to know that if we kept this incident secret, she'd push the boundaries again. Maybe next time, she'd go further. I'd seen Hadley play the same games with Gran and my Aunt Linda. See how far she could get, seek forgiveness, then fall back into her old patterns. Gran had paid for Hadley's rehab three times.

I sympathized with Hadley feeling trapped. I sure as hell understood her second thoughts about being a vampire. But that didn't give her free rein to sabotage our attempts to break the curse. Dozens of vampires' lives had been upended by this spell. Hadley had no right to choose their path for them.

We couldn't keep Hadley here. We couldn't send her home without telling the Queen.

There wasn't a good choice to be made.

I shut off the shower. I didn't feel great, but I'd reached my decision and I had to live with it.

I felt a pang of guilt and wondered what Gran would think of me.

On my way out of the bathroom, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. Pam had clocked me in the back of the head. I'd have a lump, but my hair would cover it. I was glad she didn't get me in the face, for obvious reasons, not the least of which was that Eric and I would have matching bruises. We drew enough attention as it was. I couldn't imagine the kind of looks we'd get if we both walked around looking like we'd been through the wringer.

I entered the bedroom to find Hadley leaning over my dresser. She seemed alert, and she'd put on a fresh change of clothes.

"How are you feeling?" I said, bracing myself for a confrontation.

She barely looked at me. She was focused on something—I couldn't see what. "I know this woman."

I had no idea what she was talking about. Tucking in my towel, I approached her.

Hadley was staring at the old photograph I'd found hidden in Marnie's possessions. It showed a group of wait staff posing on a grand staircase. One of them was Marnie's mom.

"Which woman?" I asked.

Hadley pointed to a maid. I couldn't be sure, but I thought she was sitting next to Marnie's mother. I flipped the photograph over. _Front row. 4 & 5 from L. Mom and Octavia, _read the penciled note on the back.

"Octavia," Hadley said. "That's it. She knows my landlady. Swings by sometimes."

What were the odds of that?

"Are you sure?" We couldn't go messing up a poor woman's life on a hunch.

"Absolutely," Hadley said. "It's not a common name."

"Then, you should tell the vampires."

Hadley looked surprised. "Why?" Her implication was clear. _Why should I do anything for them?_

Hadley had forgotten, rather quickly, that she was one of them.

"Because if you don't, I will," I said, and meant it.

I hated to put this Octavia, whoever she was, in danger. But again, good choices were a luxury I didn't have. If word of the curse got out—if it became public knowledge—no vampire would be safe. Now, I wasn't running around thinking vampires needed protecting—far from it—but if this spell became a tool to a group like the Fellowship, or even the government, I couldn't imagine the consequences. It would be a disaster, and not only for the vampires of Louisiana. The curse had to be broken, and knowledge of it buried. This wasn't about any one person: not Octavia, not Hadley, and certainly not me. Much more was at stake.

Hopefully, this Octavia would help us. At the very least, she was a link to Marnie's mother, for whatever that was worth.

Hadley glowered, like I'd done something wrong. She was thinking she should have kept her mouth shut. I was glad she didn't, but looking at it from her angle, I had to agree. Why had she told me, if she wanted to stonewall the investigation? _Because she hadn't thought it through, _said the uncharitable voice in the back of my head. Because Hadley didn't think anything through. I hated to judge my own family, but Hadley had recklessness in spades.

"It will sound better coming from you," I said. Better for Hadley, that was. Right now, she needed all the help she could get.

Hadley grabbed the photograph and stomped towards the door. "You know, I came here to apologize," she said, slamming the door behind her.

She made it sound like the fight was my fault.

In her mind, it probably was.

After that, I felt rotten, but there was no use worrying about something I couldn't fix, so I toweled my hair and got dressed. I'd tied one shoe and was just about to start the second, when headlights shining in my window alerted me to a disturbance. I went to the door, just in time to see the vampire's car backing out of its parking space. Pam, behind the wheel, raised a hand to me. Hadley, sulking in the passenger seat, didn't look up. I wondered if she knew they were headed back to Louisiana.

If I were in Eric's position, would I have told her?

"So they're going," I said to Eric, watching from his own door. I didn't think it was the greatest plan, but I didn't have a better alternative. I hated to see Pam go, but it was a relief to be free from Hadley.

"We should too." He opened his door to me, and motioned me inside.

As I followed, the full weight of what had happened hit me.

I was on my own. With Eric.

There was no Pam as a buffer. No Hadley to ally us. For the first time since he'd shown up on my doorstep New Year's Eve, it was just us two.


	21. Any Old Guy

Beau's room was empty, thank god, but that didn't make me feel any better about breaking into it.

Gran hadn't raised me to steal. She hadn't raised me to stake vampires either, but she did teach me to play the hand life deals you. And right now, life had given Eric a bloody shirt and us no legal way of replacing it.

We had two options. We could hope no one looked twice at Eric's bruised face and blood-stained clothing, or he could clean himself up while I found him another outfit.

Beau's truck wasn't in the parking lot. I was willing to bet he was long gone, fleeing the police raid I'd invented out of thin air. As far as I knew, Beau hadn't been back at the motel since our fight. If that was the case, he'd left his possessions in his motel room. Chances were he had an extra T-shirt.

Borrowing Beau's clothes wasn't ideal, but we didn't have other options. We had to skip town, and fast. I didn't have time to wash Eric's shirt, and I wasn't certain that hand soap—all I had at my disposal—would remove bloodstains. The staked vampire's clothes hadn't flaked away with his body, but there was no way they'd fit Eric. The vamp had been slight and Eric was nothing if not big. Plus, his shirt had a hole in it, courtesy of my stake.

When I suggested we try Beau's room for a change of clothes, Eric looked at me like I was crazy.

"Give me another option," I said, and he couldn't. This wasn't the type of town with a 24-hour Wal-Mart. "Next time, pack a change of clothes."

"There will be no next time," Eric said, and I had to agree with him.

I cast my mind around Beau's room before entering, just to be safe.

It was empty.

I used a credit card to open his lock. Eric had suggested it. I'd seen the tactic countless times in movies, but I was surprised when it actually worked. As a motel guest, the smooth break-in didn't make me feel great about Eric and my own safety, but it certainly made my life easier.

A quick rifle through Beau's drawers revealed three T-shirts. The first had a bald eagle on the front, the second the Harley logo. The last read Dallas Cowboys. After a moment of consideration, I chose the Cowboys. If anyone asked Eric about Tony Romo's playoff chances, he'd have to fend for himself. I also snatched a flannel button-down. It was winter, after all. Eric couldn't be walking around in shirtsleeves. Beau had been wearing his coat when he skipped town, or I would have taken that too.

Beau's jeans looked a little wide in the middle and short in the leg, so I left them. Eric's pants were dark. They'd hide any blood.

I wasn't proud stealing, but I figured that after the hell Beau had put us through, he owed us his abandoned tees.

I didn't expect Beau to have a first aid kit, but Eric needed stitching up and I decided that a quick poke through the bathroom couldn't hurt. I'd swiped the bacon, so I might as well go whole hog. I didn't find any Band-Aids, but I did stumble across a half-drunk vodka bottle that Beau had stashed under the sink.

I took it.

When I reentered our room, Eric looked amused. "This early, Sookie?" he said, eyeing the liquor.

"Quit." Eric's sense of humor was one of his redeeming qualities, but right now, I was too exhausted to fend off his teasing. "It's for your face." For the cut on his mouth, specifically. I'd have preferred peroxide, but once again, our options were limited.

Eric's eyes narrowed. He didn't seem thrilled at the idea of me pouring alcohol onto his open wound. Go figure. At least he kept his mouth shut. I tossed him Beau's shirt. He caught it. Eyed the front. Cowboys.

"Football," I explained, and Eric glared at me.

"I can see that," he said, and pointed to the helmet printed on the shirt.

Eric had known who the Cowboys were, and he felt like I was condescending to him. He was peeved enough his thoughts slipped past my shields.

Well, fine. How was I supposed to know? He'd never given me any indication that he paid attention to sports.

I'd only been trying to help. Now, I felt a little peeved myself.

"They're playing Seattle this weekend. Playoffs." I was fairly certain Eric's Cowboys knowledge stopped with the fact of their existence. I'm not a gambling woman, but if I were, I'd bet money he didn't follow sports with any level of interest. Why? He didn't follow humans with any level of interest. The only place I could imagine Eric watching a game was Fangtasia, and his clientele wasn't exactly a football crowd, if you know what I mean. "In case anyone mentions it."

This was the first time the Cowboys had reached the playoffs in years. Jason was a fan, as were a lot of people around Shreveport. The Saints were pretty popular too. Sam showed both sets of games in Merlotte's. I was pretty agnostic about the whole thing, except for thinking that Drew Brees seemed like a real gentleman, which was neither here nor there.

Eric gave me a blank look. I didn't feel like talking football with him and he didn't seem to have much to say to me, so I went into the bathroom to grab a paper towel and a cup of water for first aid.

When I came back, Eric was shirtless. I stared, but not for the usual reasons.

Beau had beaten him worse than I thought. Eric had a few bruises on his torso and an angry red mark along his back, probably from where he'd slammed into the truck.

He looked so bad, the anger just ran out of me. I felt sorry for him. A few weeks ago, I'd been beaten pretty badly myself. If we could have gone to a hospital, I'd have taken him right then and there. But we didn't have that luxury.

There wasn't anything I could do about Eric's bruises. Time would heal them. But the cut near his mouth was another story. It had to be cleaned. I wasn't a nurse, but in the past six months, I'd done more first aid than the rest of my life combined. Most of it on myself.

I sat across from Eric. Poured some vodka on the paper towel. The smell made me think of Jane Bodehouse. "This will probably hurt."

Eric just looked at me.

All right, Mr. Macho.

I pressed the towel into Eric's jaw and began to wipe around his wound. His beard had started to come in. It was blond, so you couldn't see it unless you were close, like I was. In another day or two, he'd look scruffy.

"How does it feel?"

"It hurts." He didn't sound accusatory. He was stating a fact.

I dripped the dry end of the towel in the water, and pressed it to his cut. My fingers were very close to his lips.

It was then that I realized that Eric could have cleaned his own face himself.

"How's your head?" he asked.

I was feeling lightheaded, but I didn't think that was what he was talking about.

"Pam," he said. "The lamp."

Oh that. "I'll live."

"Yes," he said, as he shrugged into Beau's T-shirt. "Me too."

* * *

><p>We arrived at the mechanic's at eight, when it opened.<p>

Eric had put on Beau's Cowboys shirt and the flannel button down. With the change of clothes he was looking more like any old guy. The kind of guy that might come into Merlotte's. It was good for us. The less attention Eric and I attracted, the better.

Even so, the mechanic did a double-take when he saw Eric. He looked like he'd been punched in the face, which was, in fact, exactly what had happened.

At least the mechanic was the type of man who knew better than to ask. He just wanted to get rid of us. I was able to glean that much from his thoughts. He thought we looked like trouble.

In a way, I guess we were.

"I was just about to call," the mechanic said, forcing a smile. "Your car's finished."

I said a little thank you to Jesus. It was the first stroke of luck we'd had in what felt like forever.

As Eric went inside to pay, I stayed in the lot to phone Merlotte's. It was early, but Sam was a morning person. He was usually in the bar around eight for deliveries.

"Hey," I said, when he answered.

"Sookie." It was relief to hear his voice. "How's Nashville?"

"Good," I said, feeling guilty all over again for lying. "Listen, Sam, I have a favor to ask." I'd meant to call him last night and ask him to check on Jason's girlfriend in Hotshot. With the hullaballoo over Hadley, I hadn't had a chance.

"Ask away."

"Jason's been dating a girl in Hotshot. Crystal Norris. Hoyt was planning to go over last night and ask around, but I was hoping you might go yourself, when you have a few free minutes." I hesitated, trying to figure out how to say 'since you're a shifter' without actually saying it. Call me cautious, but I didn't feel right mentioning that over the phone. "Considering the community."

I didn't specify further, but Sam was a smart guy. He knew what I meant. Hotshot was a shifter town and they were more likely to open doors to one of their own.

"I hear the man to talk to is Calvin Norris," I said.

Sam was quiet for a moment. "Bill tell you that?"

It had been Eric, but the last thing I wanted to do was bring him into it. I had troubles enough without multiplying them. "Sure."

"I know Calvin." Sam sounded cautious. "I also know Hotshot's not friendly to outsiders."

That didn't sound good for Jason. "You think he's there?"

"I think I'll go today," Sam said. "I can reach you on your cell?"

"Anytime," I said. "Sam, I can't thank you enough."

"You'd do the same for me," he said, as if that were the end of it. "Take care of yourself."

I told him to do the same and we hung up.

"That the shifter?" Eric had our keys in his hand. I nodded and fell into step beside him. "How's your brother?"

"Still missing." There wasn't much more to say.

"You try Hotshot?"

"Today."

Eric nodded, and that was the end of it. He didn't offer any false assurances, which I actually appreciated. He just unlocked the driver's side door, then paused.

"Would you like to drive?" he asked.

* * *

><p>I did want to drive. One of my favorite pick-me-ups was hitting the open road with the music loud and windows down. Before now, it was strictly a solitary ritual. It felt strange to be sharing it with Eric, of all people.<p>

Strange, but he seemed to know where I was coming from. Eric had rolled down the passenger window and had his arm on the door. He looked like he was enjoying the sunshine, although I'd never call him on it.

He was quiet, which was fine by me. I could tell that he was almost as tired as I was. I was certain he'd barely slept last night. I knew I hadn't. And every time I'd opened my eyes, he'd been awake.

We fixed the radio to the local country station. I had to forgoe my usual Shania fix, but Dierks Bentley subbed in just fine. We fell into a kind of companionable silence. After a few minutes, Eric changed the radio off country, but he seemed to favor hard rock—good driving music—so I didn't mind.

When we got back on the interstate, I could go as fast as I liked.

"You drive well," Eric said, as I cut off an old Chevy.

It was an odd compliment, but, god help me, it made me smile. It was just nice to hear something nice, if you know what I mean.

We were heading due north. The plan was to hit Threadgill's hotel around noon, and be back in Louisiana before nightfall. The sooner I got home, the sooner I could look for Jason. By then, Sam would have news from Hotshot.

Maybe it was the sunlight, maybe the open road, but at that moment, I felt like nothing would set us off course.

I should have known better.

At nine a.m. sharp, my cell phone rang.

"Is that Jason?" It was far-fetched, but I couldn't help hoping. My cell sat in the middle seat, between Eric and me.

Eric checked the display. "It's a New Orleans area code."

I held out my hand for the phone. I don't like to chat and drive, but these days I was making a lot of exceptions to my personal rules.

Eric opened the cell for me. I took one hand off the wheel to hold it to my ear.

"Sookie Stackhouse?" The caller was a woman.

Eric watched me. He seemed alert. Maybe even on edge. I guess the Louisiana area code had done nothing to set him at ease.

"Speaking."

"I'm Amelia," she said. "Hadley's landlady. I hear you found a photograph."


	22. Employee of the Month

_Nice to see you all and apologies for the long delay! RL caught up with me and I've been really busy the past few months, but I have more time now that the summer's here and will finish this up in a timely fashion. We're on the home stretch :) _

* * *

><p>"I hear you found a photograph."<p>

"Yes." There was only one photo this Amelia could be referring to. The photo Hadley had recognized. The photo of Marnie's mother and the woman, Octavia. That photograph had been taken at Poindexter Palace, the Arkansas hotel Eric and I were heading for at this very moment.

Hadley had recognized Octavia as a friend of Amelia, her landlady in New Orleans. In the photo, Octavia was a young woman. Judging from the out-of-date hairstyles, it had to have been taken thirty, maybe even forty, years ago. Octavia would be well into her 60s today.

"Hadley asked you to call?" I couldn't imagine any other way that Amelia would have gotten my number.

"Sort of." Amelia sounded indignant. "She left a message. At four a.m." The, _can you believe it?_ was implied. "Those vamps."

Those vamps, indeed. So Amelia had no idea that Hadley had been defanged, so to speak. Either that, or she was playing dumb.

I hoped for the first option and feared the latter. "Yeah. Those vamps," I said, to buy time. Amelia might sound clueless, but was she? It was one hell of a coincidence if Marnie's mother's friend happened to know Hadley's landlady.

Eric grabbed my arm. Between the mentions of Hadley and vampires, he wanted to know what was going on. I couldn't blame him.

I moved to hit the speaker button, and hesitated.

Did I trust Eric?

No. Not entirely.

But on the other hand, I didn't know if I could afford not to. Someone was onto us, as last night's vampire visitor had shown. I was trapped in an unfamiliar state, facing unknown problems. I needed all the help I could get. As did he.

After a moment of hesitation, I hit the phone's speaker button. A niggling sensation in the back of my mind told me I was making a mistake. But, honestly, I didn't know what else to do. I didn't want to be at war with the world, and Eric on top of it.

The world was exhausting enough.

Amelia's next question threw me for a loop. "So, family history research? That's a neat job. How'd you get into it?"

I mustered an intelligent "Uh," before managing to connect my brain to my mouth. I might not know what the hell was going on, but at this point, it seemed best to play along. "What did Hadley tell you?" seemed like the safest starting point.

"Just that you're her cousin. And you're researching a client's family tree. Marty something—"

"Marnie Stonebrook." I could figure that much out. So I, Sookie Stackhouse, barmaid, was now a family history researcher. I had to give Hadley credit: it was a good cover story. I was impressed—and honestly, surprised—that she'd had come up with it. But then again, she'd always been an excellent liar.

"Right. Marnie." The name seemed to mean nothing to Amelia. I could have just as easily said Marty or Mary Lou. Amelia was either clueless, or an excellent actress. "Hadley said she was visiting you, saw the photo, and recognized Octavia. She was wondering if I could connect you two. Small world, huh?"

In my experience, the world wasn't that small. But before I could think of a harmless reply, Eric tensed. I glanced over at him. It took one look at his face to guess he'd had no idea about Hadley and the photo. His thoughts confirmed it. She hadn't mentioned Octavia. And if Eric had been in the dark, Pam likely was too.

As puzzled through it, I realized Hadley hadn't just bypassed Eric, she'd probably gone over his head.

In other words, she'd gone straight to the Queen.

And why not? What did Hadley owe Eric? Nothing. Actually, less than nothing. He was sending her back to Sophie-Anne, in shame. She was in possession of information that would make the reunion go a whole lot smoother.

If Hadley told the Queen about the photo, she'd come up looking like the great investigator, and Eric would be the goof that let one slip through his fingers.

My fool cousin had one-upped Eric.

Eric seemed to reach that conclusion at the exact time I did, and he looked pretty pissed about it.

All of a sudden, I had yet another fire to put out. We might be blood, but Hadley seemed determined to make my life as difficult as possible.

"Sookie? You there?"

With all the one-upping, I'd forgotten about Amelia.

"Sorry, I'm driving." I gave Eric a _hold your horses_ look. He glared, but sat back in his seat. He knew the importance of this call just as well as I did. "So can you? Connect us, I mean."

I wasn't sure if that was the best idea—_what if this Octavia had helped curse the vampires?—_but then again, she was one of the only leads we had. Someone had to talk with her, and if not me, then who?

"Well, sure," the landlady said. "I mean, I'll try. I'll give her your number. Octavia's a little," she hesitated, "private." By the way she said private, I could tell that word was subbing in for something else. "I wouldn't take it personal if she doesn't call straight away."

Eric and I didn't have time to dawdle. I sure didn't trust this Octavia, but right now she was the best lead we had. We had to talk to her, and soon. "Tell her it's about Marnie Stonebrook," I said. "Tell her I'm lucky to have found her." An idea hit me, and I was feeling desperate enough to act on it. "Tell her this whole research project's been, well, a little cursed."

Eric looked at me, sharp. I glared back at him. I didn't see him on the phone, sticking his neck out.

"Cursed?" Amelia's voice was hard all of a sudden, maybe even suspicious. Interesting. "How so?"

"You don't want to know." I meant every word. "Just tell Octavia."

I hung up.

If Octavia was truly Marnie's ally, my whole 'cursed' charade might have been reckless. In fact, it almost certainly was. But, on the other hand, I needed to get her attention. We were in it, and in deep. If Eric, Pam, and I were going to get out of this alive (or undead, as the case may be) we had to take risks.

It wasn't as if we had other options.

We had to talk to Octavia.

"You showed Hadley the photograph?" Eric sounded grim.

"She found it," I said. "She recognized the woman with Marnie's mother. Said she was a friend of her landlady."

Eric actually started. "Are you serious?"

His reaction paralleled mine. And no wonder: this was a coincidence that strained credulity. Unless, it wasn't a coincidence. _That_ scared me more than anything.

"Hadley seemed certain."

Eric was expressionless. "It was the landlady who called?"

I nodded. "I thought Hadley told you." Otherwise I would have mentioned it myself. I should have mentioned it, but my thoughts had been so scattered between Jason, Beau's break in, and our car. I'd asked Hadley to tell Eric, and just assumed she'd gone along with it.

I should have known better.

"She didn't." Eric sounded grim. He didn't say what we were both thinking. Hadley had gone straight to Sophie-Anne.

It wasn't for nothing that she'd survived so long as the Queen's favorite.

"Have you heard from Sophie-Anne?" Might as well see what we were facing.

Eric gave me a look. He was not pleased with the subject change. "You've been with me all morning."

I didn't know if the radio silence from her majesty was a good or bad sign and Eric didn't seem inclined to enlighten me.

"Eric, what's going on?" Two days ago I wouldn't have bothered asking, because there wouldn't have even been a chance of him answering. "Why are we in Arkansas?"

"To go to Threadgill's hotel." He was caution incarnate. Typical.

I glared. I wasn't impressed with his answer, and I didn't care if he knew it. At the risk of doing my best broken record, "Okay, but why? Does the Queen suspect him?" Sure, the Stonebrooks were from Arkansas, but I didn't think Threadgill would be foolhardy enough to attack Sophie-Anne with a curse that could just as easily be turned on him. All it would take was the right person to say the right Abracadabra and Threadgill would be human too.

I knew Eric agreed with me. He'd hinted as much. Plus, I had the advantage of reading his mind.

Eric gave me a good long look. He was thinking about stonewalling me.

"Her majesty has a low a low opinion of Threadgill's intelligence and a high estimation of his ambition," he said finally.

It was an honest answer.

Okay. So Sophie-Anne thought her husband-to-be had done the deed. That boded well for their marriage. Although now that I thought about it, vampires rarely played by human rules, so why would their marriages be any different? I shuddered. Maybe it was easy to disregard _until death do you part_ when both parties were already dead.

Maybe someone was playing on the Queen's suspicions. "Who would want us to think Peter Threadgill is responsible?"

"Someone who wants a war between Arkansas and Louisiana," Eric said, without hesitating. He'd obviously been thinking it through.

I considered his words. It wouldn't be much of a war, what with Lousiana's vampires turned human. Bill was a good fighter, but he couldn't hold the state alone. Any attack would mean total collapse for Sophie-Anne's regime.

"Or someone that wants to see the Queen fall," I said. "I mean, as soon as anyone finds out, y'all are toast. Doesn't matter if it's Threadgill, or Mississippi, or the Fellowship of the Sun that does it. " When Eric glared at me, I realized I could have been more tactful. "Sorry."

"It's not just Louisiana." Eric looked grim. "We might be first, but if humans know this curse exists—"

He trailed off. He didn't need to finish his thought.

If word got out, no vampire would be safe.

And what did that revelation do for the list of suspects? Didn't make it any shorter, I'll tell you that much.

There were a lot of people who hated vampires.

* * *

><p>The Poindexter Palace Hotel was a converted plantation home smack dab on the Mississippi. The driveway was grand, with well-kept oaks lining the route. A painted sign out front told us rooms were available and the hotel was on the National Register of Historic Landmarks.<p>

"Founded in 1799," I read. "Wow. Old."

Eric raised his eyebrows. I realized we had a very different understanding of the word old.

He didn't say anything and I let it rest. Eric hadn't been in a chatty mood after Amelia's call, and for that matter, neither had I. Aside from some unavoidable planning, we'd pretty much driven the rest of the way to Poindexter Palace in silence.

We also hadn't heard from the Queen. Eric didn't reach out, and I didn't ask him about his plans regarding her. It wasn't any of my business, and honestly, the less I thought about the Queen, the better I felt. I wish I could close my eyes and make her majesty disappear (along with the rest of my problems) but I didn't live in a world where wishes came true, at least not without some help from powers beyond my control. I knew I had to sit down and think through the mess with Hadley, Sophie-Anne, and Bill—the thought of him made my chest tighten—but there wasn't enough room in my brain. At least not now. I had to deal with the problem at hand before I could move on to more remote ones.

And my current problem was Peter Threadgill.

Or rather, his hotel. "Has Threadgill owned it since 1799?" I figured Eric had to have done his research since he was so keen on the idea of coming here.

Eric shook his head. "Recent acquisition."

His thoughts told me what his mouth did not. Threadgill had come to power only in the past decade, and had been steadily increasing his holdings. Buying property along the river—hotels, and the like. Not casinos. But places that could easily make the transition.

I couldn't see why, since vampires were legally barred from owning gambling establishments, but then a stray thought of Eric's helped everything click it into place. Threadgill was hoping to push a bill through the Arkansas state legislature that would open up those revenue avenues. Eric had been watching with interest. The Shreveport area had its fair share of casinos.

That was all very interesting. What relevance it held for us, I had no idea.

I pulled into the parking lot. It was midday, so I supposed most of the hotel guests were out, but there were a handful of cars belonging to staff and tourists. There was a young couple snapping photographs of the house and grounds. They looked happy. I watched as the man slung his arm around the woman's shoulders.

I sighed. Actually—audibly—sighed.

It wasn't the hug, although I could do with one of those. They just seemed so happy. Carefree. They were on flipping vacation, for goodness sake. They had no idea the vampire apocalypse around the bend. In this case, ignorance was bliss.

What I wouldn't give to trade places.

As soon as I thought that, I regretted it.

I'd never wish my lot on anyone.

Eric was staring at me. "You all right?" I must have looked pretty bad, because he actually seemed concerned.

"Tired," I said, and it was only a halfway lie. I didn't even want to think about how little sleep I'd gotten last night.

Without waiting for Eric's reply, I got out of the car. He followed.

Eric put on his baseball hat, squinting in the sunlight. Whether it was disguise, or sun protection, I didn't know and, frankly, I didn't care. I was just glad he was wearing the cap. Eric couldn't help turning heads, but between the hat and the Dallas Cowboys shirt he was looking a little more unremarkable.

Which was good.

We needed all the unremarkable we could get.

I started towards the hotel.

"Sookie," Eric said, as he fell into step beside me. "When you ask for the Stonebrook woman's records—"

"Yes." I said. "We've been through this." I was clear on the plan, if nothing else. It was the one thing we'd talked about on the drive, and I was feeling better about it than, say, my chances of surviving the week.

I didn't know if that was a good thing or not.

There was a lot I didn't know, these days.

Eric and I pushed into the front entrance. A perky woman sat behind the reception desk. As we approached, I gave her my best _I'm trustworthy_ smile.

"Hi," I said, "I'm Sookie Stackhouse—" But before I could launch into the ridiculous fiction Eric and I had concocted, he touched my arm.

He so rarely touched me, it was a shock. I looked at him, sharp—but Eric's eyes weren't on me. He was staring straight ahead.

I followed his gaze.

Behind the desk was a line of Employee of the Month photographs. Smiling out at us were two pictures of Mark Stonebrook.

He'd won February and March of last year.

Well, whoop de doo.


	23. Family Tree

Mark Stonebrook grinned at me. Or rather, the photos of Mark Stonebrook. Mark himself wasn't going to be grinning, now or anytime soon.

Employee of the month, my ass. If you'd told me that the muscly, aggressive Mark Stonebrook had been a bodybuilder, or an ex-con, I wouldn't have thought twice. But employee of the month? At a fancy hotel like this?

"You know Mark?" the receptionist asked. She'd noticed my stare.

Great. Just great.

I glanced at Eric. He was glaring at the photographs of Mark like he wanted to murder him all over again.

Constructive.

The silence dragged. Should I come clean? Or stick to the plan? The receptionist seemed more curious with every passing second, so I figured I might as well scrounge up an answer. Had I known Mark?

"Not well," I said, which was the truth.

Luckily, that was all she needed to hear.

"Too bad for you," she said. "Nice guy. Best chef we ever had. You see him, you say Shelly from Poindexter says hi."

Nice guy? Were we talking about the same Mark? Last time I'd seen him, he'd tried to kill me.

"I sure will." I forced a smile. "You seen him recently?" If Shelly was a friend, maybe she had a clue about who hired him to curse the Louisiana vamps.

"No ma'am," Shelly said. "Not since he left work."

"And when was that?" Eric said, finally conceding the staring match with Mark's photo.

Shelly had to think. "Five months ago. Maybe six. Why? You looking for him?"

"We're working for his sister." I waited for Eric to finish the sentence and fill in our cover story, but he let it dangle. Like a lure.

Shelly seemed taken aback, but not for the reason I would have guessed. She stopped herself from saying, _Mark_ _has a sister?_ but I heard the question rush through her head.

"You work for his sister? Doing what? " Shelly was confused, more than a little hurt, and doing a poor job of covering. She'd worked with Mark for over a year, and he'd never once mentioned a sister. They'd gone out for drinks. He'd come over to her house for dinner. She considered him a friend. She was sure she'd asked Mark about his family. Had he lied?

She hadn't pegged him as that type of guy.

Now, that was interesting. I glanced at Eric. He didn't have the benefit of reading Shelly's mind, but he could tell that something was up. He'd given her his full attention.

"Doing what?" Shelly repeated, and I heard her nerves in her voice. Eric made her edgy. Especially now that he was staring at her. She thought he was attractive, but unnerving. She wondered how he'd gotten those bruises.

"Family history research," I said, hoping our cover story would pacify her. Eric and I had decided to borrow Hadley's lie. We figured it was the easiest way to ask questions about people long dead without arising suspicion.

Mark wasn't the only Stonebrook who'd worked at Poindexter Palace. If Marnie's photograph was to be believed, her mother had been on the staff here decades earlier.

What it all meant, I didn't know.

But it sure as hell wasn't a coincidence.

Shelly eyed us. She was moving from unnerved to suspicious. She thought Eric and I sure didn't look like fancy for-hire researchers, and between Eric's bruised face and our rumpled clothes, I had to agree.

Shelly opened her mouth to call us out, but I beat her to the punch. "We ran into some trouble on the way. Car crash." It was a poor lie, but the best I could come up with on the spot. Eric's face was black and blue. There was no other explanation but the truth, and admitting he'd been in a fistfight wouldn't exactly work in our favor.

"You should see the rest of me," Eric said, surprising me—and Shelly, for that matter.

She gawked.

He smiled.

She blushed. Cleared her throat. "How're you holding up?"

He shrugged. "I'll live."

He gave her another smile.

It was like the wind had shifted. Where there'd been suspicion, there was now goodwill.

God bless Eric, and his square chin. Even beaten, even exhausted, he could turn on the charm.

I figured that was as good of a lead-in as we would get, so I put the photograph of Marnie's mother on the countertop. "Shelly, we could use your help."

She recognized the setting immediately. "My word," Shelly said, as she picked up the photo. "That's here."

We were, without a doubt, in the right place. I could see the grand staircase from the photograph, just beyond the entrance hall.

"Our client's mother's in the third row," Eric said, leaning a little too close to Shelly. She didn't seem to mind.

"Mark's mother," I piggybacked. "We've been talking to his sister, Marnie."

The name meant nothing to Shelly. I hadn't expected it to, but figured it was worth a shot.

"We're looking for someone who can tell us about her. Would that be you?" Eric made it sound like he was hoping so.

Shelly eyed Eric with growing interest. I hadn't been the only one to hear the invitation in his voice.

When Eric smiled at Shelly, his whole face relaxed.

After a second, she smiled back.

When Eric wants something, he's hard to resist. Believe me, I know. I've succeeded in putting him off, but I've also failed. Miserably.

Right now—as I watched Eric make moon eyes at Shelly—the failures kept popping into my head. Jackson, for instance. He'd given me that look, and where had it gotten us? Thank god Bubba had interrupted when he did. How terrible would these past few days have been, if we'd finished what we'd started?

Free from such baggage, Shelly could enjoy the moment. She could think Eric was a nice human guy. The type who smiled freely. She thought he'd look even better when his bruises healed.

She had no idea.

"I'd like to help y'all," Shelly said, and even though she included us both, she definitely wasn't talking to me. "But you be better off speaking with my granddad."

Eric made a show at being disappointed. But when Shelly led us into the back offices, I could tell from his thoughts he was as relieved as I was.

We'd gotten in the door.

Unfortunately, it was only our first hurdle. And, very likely, our least.

* * *

><p>"Yes, I knew her." Rick Poindexter—grandfather of Shelly Poindexter—studied the photograph of Marnie's mother like he'd never seen anything so remarkable. "Octavia too. They were inseparable. Peas in a pod."<p>

Unlike Shelly, Rick was a werewolf. I'd known as soon as I stepped in the door. His thoughts were snarly and, although he was pushing 80, his handshake was firmer than average.

Eric had taken Rick's hand too—he couldn't avoid the ritual—but he hadn't given me any sign that he'd picked up on Rick's otherness. Not that I'd expected Eric to cry wolf (so to speak), but I wondered if he'd known Rick for what he was. Now that Eric was human, could he spot super? He hadn't thought about wolves or weres, so I was guessing that the answer was no.

Eric was going to be thrilled when I told him.

And I'd have to tell him.

Rick hadn't taken his eyes from the photograph of Marnie's mother since I'd put it in his hands. Eric and I had done our 'car crash family history' song and dance, then I'd told Rick that Marnie had given us the photo, and mentioned Octavia as Marnie's mother's friend.

"Alice was a waitress, and a sweetheart." Rick got a smile, unconscious, like he couldn't help himself. I figured Alice was Marnie's mother's name. "Or, at least, that's what we thought."

There was obviously a story there. I glanced at Eric to see if he'd picked up on it too.

Eric was waiting for me. He glared at Rick. Gave me a clear _hurry it along_ look. He was not one for memory lane. But I knew he understood the value of the soft touch.

I turned back to Rick. "What happened?" I could feel Eric's eyes boring into my back.

"Mark didn't tell you?"

"We're having trouble getting in touch," Eric said. I could hear his impatience.

"Really? I thought you work for the sister." Rick was fishing. Like Shelly, Marnie's existence had been news to him. Rick thought it was curious that Mark had worked for him for nearly a year and never once mentioned a sibling.

I agreed. Actually, I thought it was more than curious. I thought it was significant. I just couldn't put my finger on why.

At least not yet.

"They don't talk much." It was an embellishment based on what I'd pulled from the Poindexters' minds. "But I think she hopes to reconnect. Use the family history stuff as an excuse to reach out," I shrugged, like I was guessing. Like it was none of my business, really. I tried to seem casual.

"Hm," Rick said, but he seemed to warm to that. He set down the photograph, and began rummaging through his desk. Pulled out a rolodex. "Family's family," he said, and passed me a card.

Mark Stonebrook's phone number, address, and email were handwritten on it in blue ink.

"I don't know if this is current," Rick hadn't seen Mark since he'd left work. Not even at a pack meeting. "You run into him, ask him to give me a call, would you?"

"Sure."

I was lucky- Rick's mind was easier to read than many shifters. Mark had quit about six months ago. He hadn't even given notice, just stopped showing up to work.

That set off alarm bells, but before I could think of a delicate way to ask about Mark's departure, Rick turned back to the old photograph.

"I don't know that Mark's sister is going to like what I have to tell you," he said. "She doesn't know anything?"

"Her mother didn't like to talk about the past," I lied. "Or so she said." Eric and I knew squat, and if we wanted to get anywhere we had to pretend our fictional version of Marnie was in the same boat.

It wasn't a perfect lie, but at least Rick seemed to buy it. "I don't doubt that," he said, before staring at the photograph for a good long while. He was thinking about running with Alice on the full moon.

God, I hated lying. But I didn't know what else to do. If we told Rick the truth, you could bet he'd tell other weres, and that was a problem we just didn't need to have.

Eric caught my eyes. He was getting impatient. I couldn't blame him.

"That's me, you know." Rick pointed at a swash of dark hair in the photo's back row. These days, he was bald as a baby. "I was a server. My father made me learn the business from the bottom."

"So you own this place?" Eric's question was pointed, but his face was blank. Innocent. Yeah, right. Eric knew as well as I did that the hotel belonged to Peter Threadgill.

Eric was obviously tired of letting Rick's memory run its course.

"My family owned it." Rick left it at that, but I didn't miss the past tense. Neither did Eric.

I wondered what had happened to make the Poindexters sell to vampires. It could be as simple as a big payout. But they were weres—not exactly vampires' biggest fans—and I got the sense from Rick's office—cluttered with so many memoirs of the Poindexter plantation that it looked like a museum—that he was a man who took pride in his family and their legacy. Selling wouldn't have been his first choice. Not by a long shot.

But Rick Poindexter's story wasn't the one I'd come here to uncover.

"Mark's mother—" I began.

"Alice," Rick said.

"Alice—" I amended.

"Was a thief." Whatever I'd been expecting, that wasn't it. Rick looked grim. "A con artist. Whatever you want to call it. She defrauded us. Thousands. Tens of thousands, maybe twenty. In those days, that was a lot of money."

It still sounded like a lot of money to me.

"I'm sorry to be the one to let the girl know," Rick said, and it took me a second to realize he was talking about Marnie.

"How'd she do it?" You couldn't get thousands of dollars skimming off the till.

Rick opened his mouth, then shut it. He was thinking about cops. "This is just for the sister?"

"Yes," Eric looked—and sounded—surprisingly sincere. He reached into his pocket, and came out with a photograph. As he handed it to Rick, I took a glance.

Mark and Marnie. Arms around each other. You could see the family resemblance. Their hairstyles were a decade out of date, and they looked young. Happy.

Eric must have stolen it from Marnie's wallet.

"This is the sister?" Rick said.

"She told us it was taken the last time she saw Mark," Eric said, and I felt my insides twist. "She wants to find him. And she wants the truth."

Considering that Marnie was dead and we were the ones that had done it, I felt just about as low as a human being can. I had to stare at the floor, because I wasn't sure what I'd do if I looked at Eric.

I wanted to tell Rick to forget it—forget the photo, forget we'd even come—but I kept my mouth shut. I couldn't speak, not if we wanted to find out why this photograph had been so important to Marnie. What her mother had been doing at a hotel now owned by Peter Threadgill. With a friend of Hadley's neighbor. There were too many coincidences. I could feel an answer, almost see it, but it wouldn't snap into focus. Every instinct I had was telling me that there was important information here—with Rick—and we had to uncover it if we wanted to break the curse.

And boy, did I ever want to break that curse. Not just for Eric and Pam.

I wanted this nightmare to be over.

I wanted my life to go back to normal.

I was complicit in Eric's lie. I stared at the smiling Stonebrook siblings, and tried to remind myself that they'd attacked us first.

I felt like crap.

Rick studied the photo. From the expression on his face, I knew he had cared about Mark. Maybe deeply.

"I want your word that what I tell you only goes to the Stonebrook family," he said, finally.

Eric didn't hesitate. "You have it."

Rick turned to me.

"Yes." I had to force the words. I felt like I had liar stamped across my forehead, but I must have seemed convincing, because Rick cleared his throat.

"Gambling's never been legal on this side of the river, but occasionally patrons played a few round of cards in our back room," he said.

A dip into Rick's thoughts filled in the holes. Occasionally was every night, and a few round of cards meant a full-out, off-the-books gambling ring. Alice Stonebrook had been a dealer.

"Alice's man worked in town," Rick said. "But he was here a lot, and he played often." It was clear from Rick's tone that he had no lost love for Mr. Stonebrook.

"They fixed the game?" Eric read between the lines. He was one step ahead of me. He'd spent more time around gambling, I guess. Or criminals. Both, now that I was thinking about it.

Rick shrugged. "Stonebrook won often. Too often."

"What did you do with him?" Trust Eric to think about the punishment.

"What could we do?" Rick didn't spell it out, but he didn't have to. You can't call the law when you're running an underground gambling racket. "My father and some friends ran them out of town." The friends were the pack. "I didn't think about the Stonebrooks until Mark applied for a job."

"You hired him, given what you knew about the family?" Eric was fishing for information, but he wasn't going after it in the most elegant way. Or maybe he'd been trying to touch a nerve. If that had been his intention, he succeeded. Rick's eyes flashed.

"Mark worked his whole life to overcome his folks' mistakes," Rick said. Mark had told Rick he'd been born in prison. I didn't know if that had any truth, but Rick had believed him. He didn't share that part of the story with us.

And Mark had been pack. Rick also left that part out too.

"He never gave me a reason to doubt him." _Until he'd disappeared. _I heard that thought as clear as if Rick had spoken it. Mark had never even been late, and then he left without notice.

A shiver went down my spine.

"You okay, honey?" Rick asked.

"Fine," I said. What was one more lie?

"What about Octavia?" Eric asked. I was half surprised he remembered her name.

"What about her?"

"She involved in this?"

"Not that I know," Rick said. "But she left soon after Alice. Went down to Louisiana. I haven't heard from her in forty years."

* * *

><p>We pulled up at the address written on Rick's rolodex a little after 3 pm. Mark lived in a nondescript apartment complex, just off the interstate. There were a handful of inexpensive cars in the lot.<p>

Eric parked. Opened the drivers' side door.

"Eric, wait," I said, and I was surprised when he actually listened.

Eric wanted to search Mark's apartment. I understood why—other than Octavia, it was about the only lead we had—but we had to approach carefully. What if Mark's apartment was booby-trapped? Or some witch lived nearby? Or, it could be a fool's errand. Mark might have moved out. Maybe there was a new tenant.

When I mentioned these reasons to Eric, he'd told me they were all good points, but it didn't stop him from driving to Mark's at twenty miles over the speed limit.

"This is a bad idea." There was no reason to beat around the bush.

"Yes," Eric said. "You have a better one?" He had been in a snippy mood ever since I'd told him that Rick was a were. He was mad that he hadn't been able to tell. Not that he actually shared this to me. His thoughts, as always, were more open than I'd prefer.

"Let's talk it through."

"We are talking." Eric didn't even trying to hide his impatience. "Too much. There's no time. I want to be in Louisiana before nightfall."

A good plan. And one I was in full support of. But if we were trapped by Mark's witch friends, we might never see Louisiana again.

"Hold your horses," I said. "They're powerful witches. Remember, Marnie could fly."

Eric stared at me for a second. "So can planes," he said.

Then, he was outside the car, and the drivers' door had slammed in my face.

Eric was halfway across the lot before I struggled free of my seatbelt. I had to jog to catch up with him. When I finally chased him down, he was at the apartment entrance.

"Hold up. Be smart." I kept imagining walking into Mark's apartment and getting caught in some spell.

Eric didn't say a word. He just pointed at Apartment 3A.

_L + M STONEBROOK_, read the slip in the slot for the tenant's names.

"Who's L?"

"One way to find out." Eric hit the buzzer.

I could have killed him.

Nothing.

Thank god.

Eric hit the buzzer again.

"Hello?" A woman's voice.

Fear gripped me. I flashed to Marnie flying through the air. Landing in front of my Malibu.

"Stonebrook?" Eric asked.

There was a silence. Then, "Speaking."

What was Eric's plan? Would a Stonebrook fall for this whole family history nonsense? I wouldn't bet on it. I opened my mouth, trying to think of some lie, but Eric beat me to it.

"Fed Ex," he said.

I stared at him. Angry as I was, I had to admire the simplicity.

Eric raised an eyebrow, as if to daring me to say something.

"Leave it on the stoop," the woman said.

"I need a signature."

Silence.

The door buzzed. Eric opened it.

"Coming?" he asked.

Without waiting for my reply, he stepped inside Mark Stonebrook's apartment building.


End file.
